Feds Crack Down: Dhillon Blasts California Schools for Indoctrination and Racism

Paul Riverbank, 2/9/2026 California’s schools are at the center of America’s cultural crossfire, as debates over indoctrination, curriculum, and identity collide with federal scrutiny—raising urgent questions about who shapes the nation’s next generation, and at what cost.

The consequences? They’re moving swiftly from headlines into everyday lives. Take last December: in San Jose, eight teenagers arranged themselves on a football field in the contorted shape of a swastika, even quoting Hitler on social media. Shockwaves rippled through the community. Parents pressed for concrete answers, not just familiar talk of “restorative justice.” Yet, even now, details around the school’s response are murky at best—leaving families wondering if real accountability exists.

And incidents like these aren’t isolated. A teenage protest against immigration enforcement in Los Angeles last year turned violent—a stabbing sent one teenager to the hospital. For those watching closely, it’s clear: quarrels about curriculum and slogans are unspooling into the corridors and courtyards, sometimes erupting into scenes you’d expect from a cable news reel, not a high school.

Parents, naturally, are at the frontlines. They describe hallways plastered with polarizing slogans—one classroom kept a hand-drawn poster reading “make Israel Palestine again” hanging for weeks; another bore a cruder message targeting America’s identity itself. For some, these are not just expressions of free speech. They cross a line, transforming the classroom into a contested ground for ideological battles. In a few cases, those posters came down—but rarely swiftly, and never without a fight.

Federal scrutiny isn’t stopping with K-12. Higher education is on notice. UCLA’s medical school, in particular, now faces a Justice Department probe. The heart of it: after the Supreme Court blocked affirmative action, did UCLA tweak its admissions to favor some groups over others? Numbers point to a sea change: between 2020 and 2023, applicants identified as white or Asian saw their admissions share tumble from about 66 percent to just over 53, even as those numbers dominated the application pool. Offers to Black students nearly doubled in that brief span. Dhillon called the shift illegal—and she didn’t sound prepared to let it drop.

Large-scale curriculum projects have come under fire as well. Initiatives that once seemed abstract—lessons on decolonization, on Native histories, global justice—now attract pointed questions. Critics warn: these frameworks don't simply teach facts. They risk dividing students into camps: oppressors and oppressed, victors and victims. When students start echoing slogans or squaring off over identity, it’s a short, troubling path from the realm of words to the arena of real conflict.

And all the while, the so-called “culture wars” rage over more than just textbooks. In Temecula Valley, a debate over bathrooms and locker rooms captured nerves on edge. Some parents filed religious exemption forms, desperate to keep their daughters out of shared spaces with boys. The language in the public meetings veered quickly into alarm: “You’ve opened the door to unlimited scenarios,” warned one mother, “where boys can start going into the bathrooms and touching girls.” Underneath the surface ran a deep current of fear—about safety, about values, about losing control.

Yet, for all the ink spilled over posters and protests, the quieter questions drift by almost unnoticed. Who is speaking to students’ inner lives? Mental health and meaning have become hot issues—though not everyone agrees that more attention helps. Across the Atlantic, British educators argue over whether schools should spend extra hours focusing on mental wellness. Some fear overemphasis breeds anxiety, not resilience. Still, the data is stark: one in five children in the UK is linked to mental health services.

All these struggles—overt and subtle—point to a far larger question. It’s not just about what kids memorize or recite. It’s about who gets to mold the beliefs they carry for life, and what picture of the country emerges from that shaping. The disagreements playing out in faculty lounges and school board meetings will echo far beyond any single graduation ceremony. They are, in fact, charting the course for the next generation’s sense of self—and for what kind of nation they’ll inherit.

When you walk into a California classroom these days, the tension is almost palpable. The familiar buzz over textbooks and test scores has been drowned out by deeper, more charged disputes. Federal authorities aren’t simply watching from afar; they’re ready to pull funding if they spot what they call indoctrination—be it political, racial, or otherwise. Harmeet Dhillon, now heading the Department of Justice’s Civil Rights Division, minced no words earlier this week: “What we’re seeing in K-12 is antisemitism, we’re seeing racism — all kinds of things.” It was less a warning and more a declaration: the federal government’s patience has run dry.The consequences? They’re moving swiftly from headlines into everyday lives. Take last December: in San Jose, eight teenagers arranged themselves on a football field in the contorted shape of a swastika, even quoting Hitler on social media. Shockwaves rippled through the community. Parents pressed for concrete answers, not just familiar talk of “restorative justice.” Yet, even now, details around the school’s response are murky at best—leaving families wondering if real accountability exists.And incidents like these aren’t isolated. A teenage protest against immigration enforcement in Los Angeles last year turned violent—a stabbing sent one teenager to the hospital. For those watching closely, it’s clear: quarrels about curriculum and slogans are unspooling into the corridors and courtyards, sometimes erupting into scenes you’d expect from a cable news reel, not a high school.Parents, naturally, are at the frontlines. They describe hallways plastered with polarizing slogans—one classroom kept a hand-drawn poster reading “make Israel Palestine again” hanging for weeks; another bore a cruder message targeting America’s identity itself. For some, these are not just expressions of free speech. They cross a line, transforming the classroom into a contested ground for ideological battles. In a few cases, those posters came down—but rarely swiftly, and never without a fight.Federal scrutiny isn’t stopping with K-12. Higher education is on notice. UCLA’s medical school, in particular, now faces a Justice Department probe. The heart of it: after the Supreme Court blocked affirmative action, did UCLA tweak its admissions to favor some groups over others? Numbers point to a sea change: between 2020 and 2023, applicants identified as white or Asian saw their admissions share tumble from about 66 percent to just over 53, even as those numbers dominated the application pool. Offers to Black students nearly doubled in that brief span. Dhillon called the shift illegal—and she didn’t sound prepared to let it drop.Large-scale curriculum projects have come under fire as well. Initiatives that once seemed abstract—lessons on decolonization, on Native histories, global justice—now attract pointed questions. Critics warn: these frameworks don't simply teach facts. They risk dividing students into camps: oppressors and oppressed, victors and victims. When students start echoing slogans or squaring off over identity, it’s a short, troubling path from the realm of words to the arena of real conflict.And all the while, the so-called “culture wars” rage over more than just textbooks. In Temecula Valley, a debate over bathrooms and locker rooms captured nerves on edge. Some parents filed religious exemption forms, desperate to keep their daughters out of shared spaces with boys. The language in the public meetings veered quickly into alarm: “You’ve opened the door to unlimited scenarios,” warned one mother, “where boys can start going into the bathrooms and touching girls.” Underneath the surface ran a deep current of fear—about safety, about values, about losing control.Yet, for all the ink spilled over posters and protests, the quieter questions drift by almost unnoticed. Who is speaking to students’ inner lives? Mental health and meaning have become hot issues—though not everyone agrees that more attention helps. Across the Atlantic, British educators argue over whether schools should spend extra hours focusing on mental wellness. Some fear overemphasis breeds anxiety, not resilience. Still, the data is stark: one in five children in the UK is linked to mental health services.All these struggles—overt and subtle—point to a far larger question. It’s not just about what kids memorize or recite. It’s about who gets to mold the beliefs they carry for life, and what picture of the country emerges from that shaping. The disagreements playing out in faculty lounges and school board meetings will echo far beyond any single graduation ceremony. They are, in fact, charting the course for the next generation’s sense of self—and for what kind of nation they’ll inherit.