Latest news with #Vianey
Yahoo
13-03-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Would-Be Rural Teachers See Their College Dreams Dashed by Trump Funding Cuts
When a 19-year-old college freshman at the University of Nebraska Lincoln got an email last month asking her to meet in a classroom on campus with her fellow teachers-in-training for an announcement, she had a sinking feeling the news wouldn't be good. She and 15 other students had started at the college that fall in the hopes of studying to become highly effective educators. Many of them planned to return to their rural communities after graduation to help fill a gaping teacher shortage. They were all recipients of full-tuition scholarships through the RAÌCES program, a three-year, federally funded project meant to diversify and increase the number of teachers in Nebraska and Kansas. What they learned that February afternoon has left many of them reeling and questioning what comes next: Abrupt federal cuts from the Trump administration — meant to root out 'DEI' practices — resulted in every one of them losing their scholarships, effective immediately. They'd be able to finish out the spring term, but as of May, the money would be gone. Of the 16 students, 14 are first-time freshmen, just beginning their higher education journeys. Get stories like this delivered straight to your inbox. Sign up for The 74 Newsletter Get stories like this delivered straight to your inbox. Sign up for The 74 Newsletter 'I knew we were going to get told something terrible, but I couldn't put a stop to it,' said Vianey, who asked to be identified by her first name only because of concerns that speaking out in the media could have negative ramifications. 'To me, this scholarship was my way out. It was my way to be something. To contradict all the odds that were placed on me,' she added as her voice broke and she began to cry. 'I've wanted to be a teacher my whole life. Now, with all of this happening, I don't know if I can recover.' Amanda Morales, associate professor at UNL and principal investigator on the RAÌCES project, said telling her group of undergraduate students about the funding cuts was 'by far, one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.' 'When you see young people's dreams just shattered in an instant because of something you said or this message you had to give, how do you bounce back from that?' she asked. 'What is happening to these projects and these programs is unprecedented, and it is really inhumane. There's no other word for it.' RAÌCES, whose name is derived from a Spanish word meaning 'roots,' was one of many teacher preparation programs that suddenly lost their funding when the Education Department canceled more than $600 million in grants. The programs, meant to increase the number of teachers in high-need and hard-to-staff schools, were accused by the department of discriminating against certain populations and embracing 'divisive ideologies' which aligned with diversity, equity and inclusion and 'social justice activism.' Related Eight attorneys general have since filed a lawsuit, alleging the cancellation of the congressionally approved grants was unlawful. On Monday, a federal judge ordered the administration to temporarily restore them in those eight states, which don't include Kansas or Nebraska. Three teacher prep programs have also filed a similar suit. The scholarship, whose name stands for Re-envisioning Action and Innovation through Community Collaborations for Equity across Systems, had been promised $3.9 million through a Supporting Effective Educator Development grant, which sought to train more highly effective educators. It was housed at UNL and Kansas State University, which were required to match at least 25% of the federal funding. RAÌCES was designed to be a comprehensive program that addressed the intractable teacher shortage in rural areas from recruiting novices to retaining veterans. It began with a high school-based program called Youth Participatory Action Research, providing students with the opportunity to explore careers in the classroom and investigate problems affecting their own education and communities. A number of students who ultimately received the full undergraduate scholarships, including Vianey, were recruited from this program. It also included funding for graduate-level scholarships, mentoring for teachers and ongoing professional development — meant to help educators stay in the profession long term. On Feb. 10, at 8:55 p.m., Socorro Herrera, professor and executive director of Kansas State's Center for Intercultural and Multilingual Advocacy and the project's lead principal investigator, received an email with an attached letter from the Education Department, telling her the grant would be terminated because it 'is inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, Department priorities.' She was shocked. 'My thought is,' she said, 'it's not 'department priorities,' but it is community priorities. It is state priorities. It is the priority of human beings who want to go back into those public schools in which they grew up to give back [and] to be the most highly qualified teacher they can be for all students — but also for students who are like them.' Morales said the letter and 'blanket termination' of all SEED grants 'left all of us just reeling with no clarity, no support, no one to call. Even our program officers are inaccessible. We were just left in the lurch — left to just flounder and try to pick up the pieces of this shattered project.' Vianey was born in Mexico and came to the U.S. as a toddler with her parents and three siblings. The family spent their first decade or so in Washington state, where Vianey attended school as an English language learner. Even as a kid, Vianey was aware of the shortfalls of her school's program and the negative impact it had on her and her English learner classmates. 'I just want to be that teacher that I wish I had when I was growing up to others,' she said. She noted it was particularly challenging to not have any teachers who looked like her or shared her life experiences. At the time, this made her feel like her dream of becoming an educator might not be attainable, a narrative she hopes to combat. 'It gives you a sense of belonging when you see somebody that looks like you in the classroom,' she added. When Vianey was in high school she moved to Nebraska with her mom, where she attended Lincoln High School and participated in the youth action program, which allowed her to do research on English language programs in her state. Eventually this led her to the RAÌCES scholarship at UNL, where she's studying secondary education for Spanish, in the hopes of eventually returning to her own high school. As of December 2024, Nebraska schools had about 670 unfilled teaching positions, meaning they were staffed by someone other than a fully qualified teacher or were left totally vacant. About half of districts that responded to the state's request for data reported complete vacancies. At roughly the same time, Kansas had almost 2,000 open teaching positions — an 8% increase from the previous spring, according to the teacher licensure director for the Kansas State Department of Education. Nationally there were almost 42,000 teaching vacancies, according to the Learning Policy Institute's most recent analysis, likely a significant undercount because only 30 states and Washington, D.C. publish such data. Research has shown that rural schools face distinct difficulties filling their teaching positions, and that teacher turnover is especially common in high-poverty rural schools. And hiring foreign language and bilingual education teachers is especially hard. 'The money, explicitly and intentionally, was about increasing the number of teachers in rural schools,' said Herrera. Related Vianey had acute ELL teacher shortages in her own district in mind when she decided to apply to RAÌCES. Getting accepted into the full scholarship program 'meant everything' to her and to her parents, whose formal education ended after third grade. '[My mom] felt like she succeeded and she was finally being able to achieve what she came here to do, and that is to give us a better life,' said Vianey. Vianey is among the at least 70 high school students, 26 undergraduates and 40 master's students across the two universities who have been impacted by the cuts, along with the almost 1,000 teachers in partnering districts who were receiving ongoing education and professional development. The ripple effects are far-reaching, potentially impacting thousands of students whose chances of getting a highly qualified, fully certified teacher have now been diminished. When the funding runs out this spring, Tiffaney Locke — a 42-year-old career changer who has spent the past 12 years working in community mental health — will be just two courses shy of her master's degree. She said as a Black student in Kansas City schools, she was able to find success because of educators who believed in her. Her plan was to return to a similar school to be that teacher for kids who look like her. She quit her full-time job to complete what she thought would be a fully funded program and is now scared about what comes next but hopeful that her teaching career is still within reach. While the population of the scholarship recipients is diverse, the only requirement for application was that students come from one of the six partner districts in Nebraska and Kansas, all identified as difficult to staff and, in most cases, rural. One of the districts they partnered with had almost 120 vacancies. Of the 16 undergraduates at UNL who were supposed to receive full scholarships — including housing, meal plans and a laptop — one quarter identified as white and half identified as Hispanic or Latino, according to Morales. Three-quarters were first-generation college students and over half came from rural communities. They were all high-achieving high school students and 15 of the 16 had GPAs just over 3.5 in their first semester, well above the program's 2.0 requirement. 'The fact that the government doesn't think you're worthy to be here is tragic,' Morales said. Related Morales and Herrera are now scrambling to find external funding, making any attempt they can to keep the program alive, but 'this may be the end of the road for many of [the students] because just loans and Pell grants wouldn't be enough to see them through,' Herrera said. These across-the-board cuts have also had a chilling effect, she said, making those at the university level scared to speak out for fear of retribution from the federal government. Their fear is not baseless, the Trump administration recently pulled $400 million in funding from Columbia University and halted payment on some $56 million in grants to the University of Maine system. 'Everybody's in this silent mode, like 'Don't call attention to yourself, go under the radar, keep doing the work,'' she added. But the leaders of RAÌCES aren't done. 'We're not rolling over here,' said Morales. 'We're not tucking our tail and just saying, 'OK, I guess this is just the way it is.' We're fighting on every front we possibly can and [are] continuing to fight up until the very last moment. I'm not giving up.' And Vianey isn't quitting either. She wants to send a clear message to the people who took away her scholarship: 'It's not going to stop us from achieving our dreams. We will find a way out … my purpose is to become a teacher — and I'm not going to stop until I'm able to.'
Yahoo
28-02-2025
- Yahoo
How Jose Valenzuela's near-death experience set off a quest to repay his parents for decades of sacrifice
NEW YORK — The long scar down the left side of Jose Valenzuela's face is abnormal, even for a boxer. That permanent mark, carefully covered by a thin beard, is detectable only if you look closely. Or you could talk to the polite pugilist long enough, but only if the WBA super lightweight champion chooses to discuss the harrowing afternoon 22 years ago when he almost lost his life. Valenzuela was just three at the time, a typical soccer-loving child playing with his older sister near the street in Nogales, Sonora, Mexico, an impoverished city near the Arizona border. His mother, Vianey, was briefly distracted by a timer that went off inside the laundromat where she washed the family's clothes. She turned her head just long enough for Jose to try to retrieve his ball, stuck beneath a nearby car. That's when, according to the story Vianey relayed to Jose over the course of the past two decades, their lives changed forever. And for the better, though they couldn't have known it then. A drug-addicted man, on the run from who knows what, jumped into the aforementioned car and sped off. Tiny Jose Valenzuela, trapped in its undercarriage, was dragged down the street. Neighbors heard the screams of a terrified child in jeopardy of losing much more than his soccer ball. The confused driver stopped. Passersby sprung into action and collectively lifted the car off of Jose. Vianey came running from the laundromat. 'I'm bleeding from head to toe,' Jose Valenzuela told Uncrowned, relaying his mother's memory of that devastating day. 'I had to learn how to walk again. My teeth, my face, everything was broken. I've still got surgery scars. My mom comes out and she just sees her freaking baby basically torn to pieces. She says I was starting to get really swollen and, like, purple.' The nearest hospital wasn't equipped to treat such severe injuries. Jose was helicoptered to one where emergency surgery could be performed, and without the benefit of anesthesia that doctors feared could kill him during a delicate procedure. The surgeon informed Vianey and her husband, Jose Sr., that the ensuing 72 hours would determine whether the youngest of their three children would live or die. They heard their son's screams from the hospital hallway, where they waited for what seemed like an eternity. Vianey and Jose Sr. will sit side by side Saturday night, again fearful for their son's safety. These days, though, the screams come from them and from the boxing fans who watch the ever-resilient southpaw ply his trade against dangerous opponents – in this case, Gary Antuanne Russell. Russell (17-1, 17 KOs), a 2016 U.S. Olympian from Capitol Heights, Maryland, comes from quite a fighting family himself. His older brother and trainer, semi-retired Gary Russell Jr., was a long-reigning WBC featherweight champion once considered one of the most talented technicians of his era. Their 12-round, 140-pound championship clash for the WBA belt that Valenzuela (14-2, 9 KOs) won in his last bout is a potential show-stealer scheduled to take place immediately before one of the most electrifying fighters in boxing, Gervonta 'Tank' Davis, takes center stage. Baltimore's Davis (30-0, 28 KOs) is set to defend his WBA lightweight title against amateur rival Lamont Roach (25-1-1, 10 KOs), of Upper Marlboro, Maryland, in the 12-round main event of a four-fight Premier Boxing Champions pay-per-view show at Barclays Center in Brooklyn on Saturday (8 p.m. ET; $79.99). The possibility of facing Davis was discussed with Valenzuela, a lightweight contender before he moved up five pounds prior to his last bout for the opportunity to challenge another Mexican, Isaac 'Pitbull' Cruz. With the newly acquired leverage his WBA belt affords him, Valenzuela opted to remain in the 140-pound division, despite the fact that moving back down to the 135-pound limit to face Davis definitely would've earned him more money than he will make for fighting Russell. Valenzuela out-boxed the rugged Cruz (27-3-1, 18 KOs) and won a split decision six months ago on the Terence Crawford-Israil Madrimov undercard at BMO Stadium in Los Angeles. More important to Valenzuela, he rewarded his parents for the countless sacrifices they made when they decided after that life-changing incident to move the family – Jose and his older sisters Griselda and America – to Phoenix, and later Bellingham, Washington. Jose Jr. was getting into fights at school when Jose Sr. decided to take him to a boxing gym to make more constructive use of his son's aggression. Problem was, Bellingham, a city of about 95,000 approximately 20 miles south of the Canadian border, wasn't exactly a hotbed for the sport that Jose Sr. had loved while growing up in a country proud of such legends as Julio Cesar Chavez, Marco Antonio Barrera, Juan Manuel Marquez, and, most recently, Saul 'Canelo' Alvarez. Without a legitimate boxing club nearby, Jose Sr. picked up his son from school most days and they drove. And drove. And drove. And drove some more. It took them two hours to drive from Bellingham to Renton, just southeast of Seattle, four hours roundtrip, just to get the training and sparring that was unavailable to them anywhere else. 'He was making $10 an hour and he had a little Honda,' Jose said of his father. 'I would get out of school, we would get in the car, he would take me two hours to train and two hours back. Then I would train and we would drive two hours back. We did that for like six years.' Jose Sr. barely had money for gas, let alone costly travel expenses for the amateur tournaments that make boxers' reputations regionally and nationally. Undeterred, Jose Sr. decided that his precocious son needed to become a puncher. The more knockouts, the better. Otherwise, talent scouts and promoters would never notice a kid who didn't have his first fight until he turned 12. 'When I was probably like 16, 17,' Jose Jr. recalled, 'when my career was [at the point] when I wanted to go pro already, we moved now to that [Renton] area, like South Seattle. It just made my commute easier and kept me fully focused on boxing.' Nicknamed 'Rayo,' Spanish for lightning, Valenzuela made his pro debut in September 2018. He was just 19 at that time, but he quickly ascended to become one of boxing's more promising prospects. Showcased during FOX telecasts that drew significant audiences amid the COVID-19 pandemic, Valenzuela was fast-tracked toward stardom by boxing powerbroker Al Haymon, whose PBC developed Davis into one of the sport's greatest gate and TV attractions. A knockdown, drag-out brawl with Dominican southpaw Edwin De Los Santos saddled Valenzuela with his first defeat – a third-round knockout on the Andy Ruiz-Luis Ortiz undercard in September 2022 at Staples Center in Los Angeles. Valenzuela learned valuable lessons from that unforgettable battle, in which he dropped De Los Santos (16-2, 14 KOs) in the second round. The skillful left-handed boxer-puncher should've approached De Los Santos strategically, but his heart and recklessness led to De Los Santos sending him to the canvas once in the first and again in the third round, before Valenzuela's former trainer, Jose Benavidez Sr., threw in the towel so that his overpowered prospect might fight another day. That defeat and his subsequent setback against Chris Colbert – a debatable, unanimous-decision defeat in March 2023 – made Valenzuela realize he needed to change his approach. Valenzuela has looked impressive while winning both bouts since then. He took the rematch with Colbert (17-3, 6 KOs) by scintillating sixth-round knockout in December 2023, then beat Cruz in more measured fashion to re-establish himself as a threat to Davis, as well as fellow 140-pound champions Teofimo Lopez (WBO), Alberto Puello (WBC) and Richardson Hitchins (IBF). The Dominican Republic's Puello (23-0, 10 KOs) will defend his title against Spanish southpaw Sandor Martin (42-3, 15 KOs) in another 12-round bout before Valenzuela opposes Russell, which is essentially a 50-50 fight according to BetMGM. Beyond adding titles to his collection, reparation is Valenzuela's motivation. 'First and foremost, even just winning the world title, it was a big, big debt [paid off], because they did everything for me,' Valenzuela said in reference to his parents. 'You know, our whole lives revolved around me, around making me a great fighter. My dad, he just had me like a little soldier. … He dedicated everything to me, like his last dollar. Like he wouldn't pay the rent, he wouldn't pay the light bill, just to put gas in his car to bring me to the gym. 'We would come home sometimes, and the lights would be off. My mom would be at food banks, stuff like that. I saw all that as a kid. Coming from Mexico, all the sacrifices, I lived it with them. So, I can never take my foot off the gas. You know, they've been my motivation. It's what I do it for.' They're together in Brooklyn, readying for what figures to be a dogfight versus Russell on another huge stage. They're focused on their 'blessings' and how all the hard work is paying off. That fateful afternoon in Nogales is embedded in their minds, a reminder of how close they came to losing much more than two professional fights. 'My mom said that she could hear me screaming through the whole hospital,' Jose Valenzuela said. 'I was getting surgery and she was just waiting outside, praying to God. Praying and praying and praying. She could hear me screaming, so she was like, 'If you're gonna take him, just don't let him suffer.' She said I just stopped crying and that was it. And the doctor comes out and he's like, 'He made it.' She definitely thought I might have some issues later on in life. But, you know, I'm still here and I'm a fighter.' A fantastic fighter at that, with a world title to defend Saturday night. And – win, lose or draw – an inspiring story to tell.
