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As someone who holds a Master’s degree in Anthropology, I entered the world of education with both passion and purpose. While my primary focus was cultural anthropology, I—like every graduate in the discipline—was trained in all four subfields: cultural, linguistic, archaeological, and biological anthropology. That meant I not only studied cultures and societies, but also the scientific method, human evolution, genetics, and the biological roots of human behavior. I came to education with a deep respect for science and evidence-based learning.
This is why, during an assignment as a substitute teacher in a high school science class in Illinois, I was shocked when the regular teacher told me—without hesitation—that “scientific theories are not factual.” He dismissed evolution as “make believe,” clearly unaware that a scientific theory is one of the highest forms of scientific understanding—built upon repeated observation, experimentation, and peer review. Evolution is the cornerstone of modern biology, not a matter of personal belief.
This isn’t a harmless slip-up. This is a fundamental failure in teacher preparation. It’s not enough to teach students how to learn if we’re giving them incorrect or ideologically distorted content. I’ve read critiques arguing that college should be limited to learning within one’s major, and that students should have mastered foundational knowledge in high school. The reality is, many high school students aren’t mastering those foundations—because their teachers are not adequately prepared to teach them.
Too many teacher preparation programs emphasize methods over mastery. Aspiring educators are trained extensively in classroom management, differentiated instruction, and educational theory—yet not always required to have a deep command of the subjects they will teach. In some cases, they’re licensed to teach science with little more than a generalist background.
And the problem doesn’t end with science.
I was working toward my teaching license through a Master of Arts in Teaching (MAT) program when I encountered another systemic problem—this time around sex education. I have a sex-positive stance, one rooted in both personal conviction and research-based evidence. In one health class I observed, students were assigned to budget for the costs of raising a newborn. It was clear the goal was to instill fear—to use financial anxiety as a scare tactic to promote abstinence. But studies have consistently shown that abstinence-only education not only fails to prevent teen pregnancy and STIs but can also be psychologically harmful, particularly to students who do become young parents.
Sexual health education should be empowering and factual, not shame-driven. But when I expressed my concerns, I encountered resistance—not just from individual educators, but from the institution itself.
Things came to a head when a student created a video montage of several posts from my account on X (formerly Twitter). These were not instructional posts. They were personal, blunt statements about my sexual desires—an expression of my identity as a sex-positive transgender woman and my belief that it is okay to have sexual feelings as a man or trans woman who is attracted to men. These posts were part of my advocacy: normalizing desire, refusing shame, and affirming the validity of trans and queer sexuality.
The school’s administration didn’t see it that way. Despite my academic progress and professional goals, my student teaching was terminated by the principal and HR. The university I was attending stated that they supported me—but they offered no legal or practical assistance in dealing with the district. Ultimately, I was left to fend for myself, and I made the painful decision to withdraw from the MAT program.
This experience left me disillusioned but not without resolve. It exposed not only the institutional discomfort with sex positivity and LGBTQ+ inclusion, but also a broader systemic issue: we are not preparing teachers who are content experts, nor are we protecting those who challenge outdated or harmful norms. We are failing both our educators and our students.
This is why I firmly believe that the time has come to rethink our entire approach to public education. In today’s complex and fast-paced world, a high school diploma is no longer sufficient preparation for the workforce—or for responsible citizenship. I believe a community college education should become the new baseline, just as a high school diploma was once considered the minimum requirement. Community colleges offer an affordable, accessible means of deepening one’s understanding of science, mathematics, communication, and civic literacy. They can provide a critical bridge to more specialized training and help ensure that our future educators, health workers, and citizens are equipped with both knowledge and critical thinking skills.
We need teachers who understand evolution, who can explain the scientific method, who are prepared to address the realities of human sexuality without resorting to fear or shame. We need school districts that protect educators from ideological purges, and universities that do more than offer symbolic support when their students face political or cultural backlash.
I may have been pushed out of the MAT program, but I have not given up on education. I still believe deeply in the power of teaching—and in the need for radical reform in how we prepare those who take on that responsibility.
Our students deserve teachers who are not only caring and skilled, but who actually know what they’re talking about. Anything less is a betrayal of their potential.
When Aid Disappears: How the Big Beautiful Bill Fails Illinois Students
By Katherine Walter
On July 5, 2025
In education
WASHINGTON, DC – JULY 04: U.S. President Donald Trump, joined by Republican lawmakers, signs the “One, Big Beautiful Bill” Act into law during an Independence Day military family picnic on the South Lawn of the White House on July 04, 2025 in Washington, DC. After weeks of negotiations with Republican holdouts Congress passed the One, Big Beautiful Bill Act into law, President Trump’s signature tax and spending bill. The bill makes permanent President Donald Trump’s 2017 tax cuts, increase spending on defense and immigration enforcement and temporarily cut taxes on tips, while cutting funding for Medicaid, food assistance and other social safety net programs. (Photo by Eric Lee/Getty Images)
The recent passage of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act—what some are calling the “Big Beautiful Bill”—has ushered in one of the most significant and controversial overhauls to higher education funding in recent memory. Signed into law by President Trump on July 4, 2025, the legislation is being praised in some corners for its tax reforms and streamlined government spending. But beneath the surface, the bill threatens to widen the chasm of educational inequality, especially for low-income students in Illinois and right here in the U-46 school district, where I formerly taught.
As someone who has spent years in education and now watches from the outside with a heavy heart, I’m particularly alarmed by what this bill means for Pell Grants. These federal grants have long served as a foundation for college access among students from working-class and economically marginalized communities. In U-46, where many students are first-generation college-bound and come from families already struggling with inflation and housing costs, Pell Grants have been nothing short of essential.
The Big Beautiful Bill reduces the maximum Pell Grant award by nearly 23%, cutting it from $7,395 to $5,710 (Knott, 2025a). That shortfall is not academic—it’s rent, groceries, textbooks, and transit. Just as troubling are the new restrictions the bill imposes: students must now enroll in at least 15 credit hours to qualify for full aid, up from the previous 12. Additionally, those enrolled less than half-time—often students working jobs to support their families—will no longer be eligible. These changes are not just policy shifts; they are structural barriers that will block many Illinois students from ever setting foot on a college campus.
Illinois’ public colleges and universities have already been under financial strain for years, and state MAP grants, while helpful, are often insufficient to close the gap. For students graduating from U-46 high schools—whether in Elgin, Streamwood, Bartlett, or South Elgin—this federal retrenchment will be felt immediately. Students who were on the edge of affording their first year may now find themselves locked out of higher education altogether.
This is precisely why I launched the Katherine Walter Anthropology Scholarship Fund, hosted on Bold.org. Anthropology—my field of passion—is not often considered a “practical” major by today’s economic standards, yet it offers vital tools for understanding human behavior, culture, and history. In a time when diversity, equity, and inclusion are under attack, we need anthropologists who come from diverse economic and cultural backgrounds more than ever. My scholarship fund is a small but deliberate effort to push back against the erosion of educational access. It is designed to support students pursuing anthropology who demonstrate both academic promise and financial need—particularly those from school districts like U-46 that are too often overlooked in national education debates. You can learn more or contribute directly here: https://bold.org/funds/katherine-walter-anthropology-scholarship-fundraiser/.
This fund is not intended to be a bandage over a deep wound. Rather, it’s a gesture of solidarity with the students I once taught—those who worked double shifts to help at home, who translated school forms for their parents, who stayed late after class to ask about college but worried aloud about the cost. It’s for the ones who won’t benefit from the Big Beautiful Bill but deserve every chance to learn, grow, and contribute to the world.
While the legislation also eliminates subsidized federal student loans and imposes new performance metrics on college programs—denying eligibility to those whose graduates earn less than high school diploma holders—the burden once again falls on students. Especially those pursuing careers in social sciences, education, or the arts, where the monetary payoff may be modest, but the societal value is profound (Knott, 2025b).
If you’re someone who believes in the right to education regardless of zip code or income bracket, I invite you to act. Contribute to the scholarship. Share this message. Start a fund of your own. Because while the Big Beautiful Bill may have passed, its consequences are just beginning to unfold—and we must meet them with action, not silence.
References
Knott, K. (2025a, July 4). ‘Big, Beautiful Bill’ Means Big Changes for Higher Ed. Inside Higher Ed. https://www.insidehighered.com/news/government/politics-elections/2025/07/04/big-beautiful-bill-means-big-changes-higher-ed
Knott, K. (2025b, July 4). Trump signs ‘Big Beautiful Bill’ into law in White House ceremony. Time. https://time.com/7300177/trump-signs-big-beautiful-bill