Reciprocal Tariffs and Temporary Waivers: Eroding Logic, Deepening Distrust
Money moves accelerate as U.S. stocks, bonds, and dollar assets slump 
Wealthy Americans turn to Switzerland while students and scholars shift to Europe and Canada

President Donald Trump’s tariff policy—justified as a means to restore U.S. manufacturing jobs—is increasingly seen as impulsive and lacking strategic direction, leading to a loss of market confidence. This erosion of trust is fueling a broader trend of de-Americanization, with stocks, bonds, and the dollar all declining simultaneously as capital flows out of the country. Compounding the issue, the U.S. is witnessing a brain drain of top scientific talent, particularly from its once-dominant tech sector. Even tourism to the United States has sharply declined, reaching its lowest levels since the COVID-19 pandemic.

Stocks, bonds, and the dollar tumble as erratic trade policy undermines investor confidence

WASHINGTON, D.C., April 20 (Local Time) — The Wall Street Journal warned on Saturday that the simultaneous decline of U.S. stocks, bonds, and the dollar reflects a “structural erosion of trust” in the American economy, driven by President Trump’s inconsistent tariff policy and temporary waiver announcements. The paper cautioned that a loss of market confidence could prove politically devastating.

MIT economist and Nobel laureate Simon Johnson wrote in The New York Times that what worries investors most is “the illogical and arbitrary nature” of the current tariff system. “It appears the policymakers themselves neither understand what they’re doing nor care to,” he said.

The Trump administration’s tariff inconsistencies have drawn fire for lacking coherence. While Chinese-made toys are taxed at 145%, critical goods like steel, aluminum, and automobiles face only 25%. Even trade-surplus nations are slapped with 10% tariffs — a contradiction that Mark Blyth, political economist at Brown University, says has left the world believing the U.S. has “lost its compass.” The New York Times also reported that abrupt reversals in tariff announcements have deeply shaken overseas business trust in the U.S.

Capital Flight Accelerates Amid Erosion of U.S. Rule of Law

Market patience is running out. Last week, capital began to exit the United States. The S&P 500 fell nearly 6% in two days earlier this month, erasing $6.6 trillion in market capitalization. The dollar plummeted in value, and the 10-year Treasury yield spiked from 4% to 4.5% — the steepest rise in 25 years. “U.S. Treasurys used to be immune to headlines — now they’re trading like risk assets,” Blyth remarked.

Small businesses have been hit especially hard by tariffs. Stephen Lamar, CEO of the American Apparel & Footwear Association (AAFA), said the 145% China tariff has caused unprecedented supply chain disruptions, leading to canceled orders. According to CNBC, growing volumes of unpaid-for cargo are piling up at ports and airports, some exceeding the 30-day limit before being deemed abandoned under New York port authority regulations.

A new trend has emerged among wealthy Americans: moving capital to Switzerland. CNBC reports a sharp uptick in account inquiries at Swiss banks. Motivations include dollar weakness, tariff unpredictability, and concerns over the federal deficit. Swiss wealth advisor Pierre Gabris noted, “The wave is coming — tariffs are making the waves.” Many Americans, he added, are also seeking second residencies or dual citizenship in Europe.

Switzerland’s political neutrality, stable economy, strong currency, and dependable legal system are drawing U.S. investors disillusioned with their country’s waning rule of law. CNBC linked the movement directly to fears that American legal institutions are eroding under the Trump administration.

Visa Revocations Undermining U.S. Higher Education

Meanwhile, the U.S. is facing mounting backlash for its revocation of international student visas. According to NAFSA, over 500 foreign students have recently had their visas canceled in what is described as the most sweeping immigration enforcement campaign in U.S. history. CEO Fanta Aw warned that a “tsunami of lawsuits” is expected to follow.

Inside Higher Ed reports that more than 80 universities — including elite institutions like Harvard, Stanford, and Columbia — have seen a surge in visa cancellations. Even minor infractions, such as traffic violations, have been cited as justification. Secretary of State Marco Rubio previously admitted to canceling at least 300 student visas over pro-Palestinian campus protests.

The American Council on Education estimates that the country’s 1 million international students contribute $43.8 billion annually to the U.S. economy. “The State and Homeland Security departments must reconsider the broader impact of these visa cancellations,” the group urged.

The U.S. is not only losing foreign talent but witnessing an exodus of its own. Research funding cuts and political polarization are driving top academics to Europe and Canada. Applications from Americans to institutions like Central European University (Austria) and the University of Toronto have risen sharply.

China, for its part, has welcomed the shift, noting that fewer Chinese scientists and students are choosing to stay in the U.S. as Washington’s stance grows more hostile. In short, Trump’s tariff volatility and broader economic strategy appear to be catalyzing a dual crisis — capital flight and brain drain — that threatens the long-term competitiveness of the American economy.

Harvard University rejects Trump administration’s demand to dismantle DEI programs, despite threats to cut federal funding and revoke its tax-exempt status.
President Alan Garber defended the university’s autonomy, calling the demands unconstitutional.
The standoff highlights growing tensions between academic freedom and federal authority under Trump.

Resistance is growing against the Trump administration’s push to bring universities under tighter control. President Donald Trump has been leveraging federal subsidies and tax-exempt status to pressure leading institutions, prompting fierce backlash not only from academia but also from prominent figures—including former President Barack Obama.

Harvard Defies Trump

On April 14 (Korea time), Harvard University issued a public letter signed by President Alan Garber, stating that it would refuse to comply with the Trump administration’s anti-DEI (Diversity, Equity, Inclusion) directives. This came in response to a government memo sent on April 11, which demanded that Harvard crack down on campus anti-Semitic protests and overhaul its admissions and faculty hiring practices. Harvard concluded that these demands posed a serious threat to its history and academic mission.

Prominent alumni rallied to the university’s defense. On April 15, former President Barack Obama, a Columbia and Harvard Law graduate, posted on social media platform X (formerly Twitter), praising Harvard for “rejecting an illegal and coercive attempt to suppress academic freedom” while taking “concrete steps to ensure all students benefit from an environment of intellectual inquiry, rigorous debate, and mutual respect.” Obama called on other institutions to follow suit.

Solidarity is growing across higher education. Stanford President Jonathan Levin and Provost Jenny Martinez released a statement supporting Harvard, acknowledging that “universities must respond to legitimate criticism with humility and openness,” but emphasizing that “destroying our national research infrastructure or imposing government control over private institutions is not the path to constructive change.”

The Price of Defiance

Despite the outpouring of support, the Trump administration has not backed down. On the same day that Harvard rejected the demands, the administration froze $2.2 billion in federal funding earmarked for the university over several years, along with $60 million in federal contracts.

On April 15, White House spokesperson Caroline Leavitt stated, “President Trump expects Harvard to apologize for the appalling anti-Semitism that occurred on campus. They must comply with federal law.” Trump echoed the sentiment on his platform, Truth Social, writing: “If Harvard continues to promote politically and ideologically toxic thought influenced by terrorists, we may have to revoke its tax-exempt status and treat it as a political organization.”

The following day, CNN reported that the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) is actively considering revoking Harvard’s nonprofit tax status. U.S. law grants tax exemption to educational, religious, and charitable organizations, but this status can be revoked if those institutions engage in political activity. Losing tax-exempt status would deal a severe financial blow to any university.

U.S. Academia Struggles Under Mounting Financial Pressure

Experts warn that federal pressure on Harvard and other top universities could undermine the competitiveness of American higher education. A clear example is the research funding cuts already announced by the Trump administration.

The administration previously announced that it would cap indirect cost reimbursements from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) at 15% of total research grants. Elon Musk, who leads the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), defended the cuts, claiming: “Can you believe universities that receive tens of billions in donations are skimming 60% of research funds for 'overhead'? These schools are totally out of control.”

So-called indirect costs (or Facilities & Administrative costs) cover essential non-labor expenses for maintaining labs, equipment, and administrative services. Last year, NIH allocated $35 billion—80% of its total budget—to research institutions, with $9 billion spent on indirect costs like infrastructure and administration.

A significant cut to these funds could cripple U.S. research operations. One academic insider explained, “Indirect cost rates typically range from 30–70%. For institutions like Harvard, Yale, and Johns Hopkins, it's closer to 60–70%.” Reducing that to 15%, they said, “is equivalent to shutting labs down.”

Facing this uncertainty, some U.S. universities are already scaling back or freezing PhD admissions. The broader implication is clear: if research infrastructure weakens, so does America’s leadership in science and innovation.

The Cost of Noncompliance: Tax Status on the Line
Harvard’s Defiance and the Ripple Across Academia
A Battle for the Future of American Higher Education

In a dramatic escalation of his administration’s war on elite academia, President Donald Trump has threatened to strip Harvard University of its prized tax-exempt status, sparking fears of a political crackdown on academic independence and setting the stage for a constitutional showdown. The threat came just days after Harvard stunned the nation by rejecting more than $2.3 billion in federal funding to avoid complying with new ideological mandates tied to that funding.

Harvard’s decision to turn down the money—an unprecedented move in modern U.S. higher education—has not only thrown its financial and administrative future into uncharted territory but also marked a defiant stand for institutional autonomy. Now, the Trump administration appears poised to exact a much steeper price.

The Cost of Noncompliance: Tax Status on the Line

At a campaign-style rally in Cleveland, Ohio, on April 15, President Trump declared that Harvard had become “a sanctuary for Marxist radicals, subsidized by the American taxpayer.” He then went further: “If they don’t want to follow the rules, maybe they shouldn’t enjoy the benefits. We are looking very seriously at revoking their tax-exempt status—starting now.”

The comment, while delivered with Trump’s usual bravado, was far from rhetorical. Hours later, Education Secretary Don Wagner and Treasury Secretary Louisa Caine confirmed that a federal task force was reviewing the tax-exempt status of institutions deemed “non-compliant with national cultural transparency standards.” Harvard, they said, would be first on the list.

Such a move could expose the university’s vast endowment—valued at more than $50.7 billion—to taxation and subject its nonprofit operations to strict federal scrutiny. Legal experts say this would mark a radical departure from precedent and invite a barrage of litigation.

“This is an existential threat to the nonprofit model of higher education,” said Richard Beeman, a constitutional law professor at Georgetown University. “It’s not just about Harvard—it’s about the government redefining what counts as educational purpose, based on political content.”

The tension traces back to an executive order issued by Trump earlier this year, aimed at ending what he calls the “ideological monopoly” of liberal academic institutions. The order imposed new requirements on universities that accept federal funding:

Mandatory Political Content Audits – Universities must submit annual reports to the Department of Education detailing the ideological content of courses, research grants, and public statements made by faculty.

Viewpoint Diversity Certification – Institutions must ensure a “balance of political perspectives” in hiring, curricula, and public events.

DEI Freeze – Universities may not use federal funds for programs or positions linked to diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives unless those programs are first approved by the Office of American Cultural Renewal, a newly established White House agency.

Compliance Contracts – Any university receiving more than $100 million annually from the federal government must sign a binding “academic neutrality agreement,” pledging not to “favor political ideologies in contradiction to American values.”

Harvard was given 45 days to comply. Instead, it walked away.

Harvard’s Defiance and the Ripple Across Academia

The university’s refusal—spearheaded by interim President Alan Garber and backed by Harvard’s powerful Corporation and Board of Overseers—was as swift as it was bold. “We cannot be coerced into compliance with ideologically driven mandates that undermine our mission,” Garber said in a public statement.

To cushion the blow, Harvard announced it would use its endowment to replace lost research and aid funding. A five-year plan reallocates approximately $500 million annually to maintain research, cover tuition shortfalls, and sustain international collaborations previously funded by agencies like the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the National Science Foundation (NSF).

Despite internal concerns about the risks and trade-offs—especially in high-cost fields like public health and engineering—faculty and student support for the decision has remained strong.

“This is not just about money,” said Dr. Ilene Chung, a professor of global health at Harvard Medical School. “It’s about whether we retain the ability to pursue truth without political supervision.”

The financial cost, however, may soon go beyond lost federal grants. Trump’s tax-exemption threat targets the core of Harvard’s institutional model.

Under Section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code, nonprofit educational institutions like Harvard benefit from massive tax privileges: they do not pay taxes on investment income, donations are tax-deductible for donors, and they avoid local property taxes on billions of dollars in real estate holdings. Losing that status would create an immediate tax liability of billions and dramatically hinder future fundraising.

Experts estimate that if Harvard were to lose its tax-exempt designation:

It could owe over $1 billion annually in new taxes on investment returns and endowment assets.

Donor contributions would decline, as wealthy benefactors would lose charitable deductions.

Real estate and facilities taxes could surge, costing the university an estimated $150 million annually in Cambridge and Boston alone.

In total, some analysts project a potential $6-8 billion hit over the next five years—a far greater blow than the loss of federal funding.

“This would be a financial earthquake,” said Claudia Simms, an education economist at the Brookings Institution. “Even for Harvard, this level of disruption would be deeply destabilizing.”

The legality of Trump’s move is hotly contested. The IRS typically requires that nonprofits engage primarily in educational and charitable purposes. Critics of Harvard claim its political activism disqualifies it. But legal scholars counter that academic freedom and political speech are protected under the First Amendment, and that the educational purpose of research and teaching remains central to the university’s mission.

“If the government starts deciding what’s ‘too political’ for education,” said Beeman, “we are on a very dangerous path.”

Lawsuits are already being drafted. Harvard’s legal team, bolstered by the ACLU and national academic coalitions, is expected to argue that revoking tax-exempt status over political disagreement violates the Constitution’s protections of speech, association, and due process.

A Battle for the Future of American Higher Education

In standing up to the administration, Harvard may have lit a fuse across the academic world. The symbolic weight of America’s oldest and wealthiest university saying “no” has emboldened other institutions to re-evaluate their own relationships with the federal government.

Since Harvard’s announcement, several universities—Yale, MIT, Stanford, the University of Chicago, and Columbia—have formed an “Academic Freedom Coalition,” pledging to resist “any federal encroachment on university governance or intellectual autonomy.”

Public universities, while more financially vulnerable, are also pushing back. The University of California system has launched an internal task force to explore legal avenues and alternative funding models.

Student-led protests have erupted at dozens of campuses, demanding that universities reject compliance with Trump’s ideological directives. Faculty senates are passing resolutions affirming the primacy of academic independence over federal dollars.

“There’s a shift in mood,” said Dr. Penelope Alvarez of UCLA. “For years, universities adapted quietly to political pressure. Harvard just proved that defiance is possible—and maybe necessary.”

At stake in this high-profile battle is not only money or prestige, but the very character of American education. Trump’s critics see his demands as part of a wider effort to reshape public institutions into vehicles for cultural and political control.

“What’s happening to Harvard could happen to any institution that tells the truth about climate, race, or history,” said Rep. Ayanna Pressley (D-MA). “We have to draw the line now, or it will be too late.”

Supporters of Trump argue that Harvard—and elite universities more broadly—have long been unaccountable, pushing liberal ideology while benefiting from public subsidies. “They made their choice,” said Sen. J.D. Vance (R-OH). “Now they live with the consequences.”

But Harvard’s defenders believe the university is showing the country what principled leadership looks like in an era of creeping authoritarianism. “They stood up when it counted,” said Dr. Robert Zimmerman, a Harvard alumnus and retired civil rights attorney. “And they reminded us that education isn’t supposed to be safe or obedient. It’s supposed to be free.”

As the legal and political showdown unfolds, Harvard now faces a future more uncertain than at any point in its nearly 400-year history. The university is bracing for budget shortfalls, donor backlash, and a long court battle. But it has also become the standard-bearer for a national resistance movement that is rapidly gaining momentum.

Whether Harvard’s gamble ultimately leads to victory or setback, one thing is clear: the age of quiet compliance in academia is over. In its place, a new era is dawning—one where universities are forced to choose between comfort and conscience, between state patronage and intellectual independence. And Harvard has made its choice.

Study Finds Private Early Childhood English Education Has Limited Impact
No Significant Gains in Language or Vocabulary Development
Minimal Effect on Overall Academic Performance

As competition intensifies to gain admission into elite English-language preschools—so much so that children as young as four are taking what are dubbed “toddler entrance exams”—a new study has cast serious doubt on the effectiveness of early childhood private education. The research found no measurable benefits in language development or problem-solving abilities among children who received such early education. More concerning, however, is the finding that early private education may negatively affect children’s emotional well-being, particularly their self-esteem. The study serves as a stark warning against the growing frenzy over early academic acceleration and unregulated preschool tutoring.

Excessive Private Tutoring Erodes Children's Self-Esteem

On April 15 (Korea time), Kim Eun-young, senior researcher at the Korea Institute of Child Care and Education (KICCE), presented new empirical findings during a lecture titled “Is Private Education in Early Childhood Really Necessary?” for Ministry of Education staff. Kim is the lead author of the study “The Impact of Early Childhood Private Education on Child Development.”

According to the study, early private education had no significant positive correlation with children’s overall language abilities or vocabulary in first grade. The effects remained negligible across other metrics such as language skills, problem-solving ability, and executive functioning throughout early elementary school. The only exception was that arts-related extracurriculars appeared to enhance children's preventive reasoning skills, suggesting some limited benefits in that domain.

The study also found no correlation between private education and emotional or behavioral traits such as conscientiousness, self-esteem, openness, or empathy. On the contrary, early private education was associated with no benefits—or even negative effects—on self-esteem and life satisfaction, indicating that its social-emotional value may be overstated.

Kim noted, “Even after controlling for factors like IQ, household income, and parental education, the independent effect of private education was minimal.” She suggested that the role of private education in child development has been overstated, and emphasized that parental care may be more critical than cram schools during early childhood.

Government’s First Study Reveals Hidden Costs of English Preschool

The government’s first in-depth evaluation of English-language kindergartens revealed not only limited educational benefits but also significant economic and social side effects. As anecdotal evidence of early education stress mounted, the government initiated a formal study in 2023. According to the report, among over 1,000 surveyed parents, 37.1% enrolled their children in private education, with English topping the list in both time and financial investment. Parents cited expectations that early exposure would spark interest and lead to better outcomes.

But results told a different story: 26.7% of parents said their children experienced stress from English learning; while 34.3% reported conflict with their children over it. Expectations fell short across all surveyed criteria, while negative effects exceeded predictions

Economically, the burden was no less stark. About 42.2% of families said they cut back on essential spending (e.g., food, clothing) to afford private education; while 41.3% said the costs made them reconsider having additional children. Over 90% of parents felt private education in South Korea was overheated, and blamed it for deepening regional and class divides

Children Pushed Into “Entrance Exams at Age Four” for English Kindergartens

Amid rising parental anxiety, the private education market for toddlers has ballooned into a hyper-competitive battlefield, exemplified by the now-common “4-year-old entrance exams.” These are selective assessments used by elite English kindergartens to screen for basic intellectual ability and English proficiency. Successful applicants often attend the kindergarten for 2–3 years, followed by entry exams at top-tier English academies—a pattern that mimics the previous “7-year-old exam” trend.

The motivation behind this double-testing is simple. Parents want their children to reach functional English fluency by early elementary school, ideally before middle and high school entrance exams loom. The concern is that, despite the Korean SAT’s shift to absolute grading in English since 2018, lagging early skills may later hinder university competitiveness. In today’s climate—where even “pre-med tracks for elementary students” exist—this "N-year-old exam" phenomenon is growing.

Driven by the belief that “earlier is better” for English learning, competition for elite kindergartens has intensified. For some schools, advance registration or years-long waiting lists are required. Admission rates are as competitive as 3:1 to 5:1. For many families, these institutions represent the first step in a structured admissions pipeline:
English Kindergarten → Elite Elementary School → Pre-Med Track → Gifted High School Program

Some parents even hire tutors or send toddlers to preparatory academies to pass entrance assessments. In Seoul’s affluent Gangnam district, “PREP” schools—named after the word “preparation”—have emerged to train 3–4-year-olds for elite kindergarten admissions. This phenomenon underscores South Korea’s entrenched reputation as a “Republic of Private Education,” where schooling begins before formal school and childhood becomes a high-stakes race.

Smartphones: The New Forbidden Fruit in School Culture
A Global Response: England’s Quiet Ban and Korea’s Legislative Push
Do Phone Bans Actually Work?

Smartphones: The New Forbidden Fruit in School Culture

In April 2025, France unveiled a new national policy tightening restrictions on mobile phone use in middle schools, deepening its position as a global pioneer in combating digital distractions in education. Beginning in September 2025, middle school students aged 11 to 15 will be required to surrender their mobile phones upon arrival, locking them in secure pouches or lockers for the entirety of the school day. This marks a decisive expansion of the 2018 French law that already prohibited phone usage during class hours but allowed some flexibility during breaks and lunch.

Education Minister Élisabeth Borne announced the new rule following a six-month pilot involving 100 middle schools, where administrators observed marked improvements in students’ focus, reduced instances of cyberbullying, and better face-to-face social interaction. “We owe our children a safe space to learn,” Borne declared. “The classroom must be a haven from the constant noise of digital life.”

While student unions have voiced concerns about autonomy and connectivity, the government is resolute, framing the policy as a child welfare initiative rather than an educational gimmick. With rising anxiety over screen addiction and the mental health crisis among adolescents, France is not alone in seeking bold interventions.

The symbolism of the ban runs deeper than policy—it’s a cultural reckoning. For many educators, mobile phones have become the modern equivalent of contraband magazines hidden in locker rooms: illicit, addictive, and profoundly distracting. What used to be tucked under mattresses or smuggled between textbook pages—pornography—has now morphed into smartphones with endless feeds, filtered realities, and algorithmic seduction.

“There’s a secrecy, an obsession, and a thrill to it,” says Claire Ménard, a literature teacher in Marseille. “Students pass around phones during recess the way previous generations passed around adult magazines. It’s the same kind of forbidden fruit, only now it’s in everyone’s pocket—and it never turns off.”

Educators warn that smartphones, like pornography, exploit the brain’s reward systems and displace valuable habits. “It’s simple,” explains neuroscientist Arnaud Vallon. “The more time adolescents spend doom-scrolling or watching explicit content, the less time they’re studying, socializing meaningfully, or developing emotional regulation.”

From the educator’s desk, this technological infiltration is particularly alarming. Teachers report constant battles with covert phone use, TikTok challenges disrupting class norms, and group chats that serve as vectors for cyberbullying. The real problem, however, may be subtler—students are no longer fully present. The fragmented attention and compulsive checking erode their capacity for deep focus, creativity, and empathy.

A Global Response: England’s Quiet Ban and Korea’s Legislative Push

France’s policy shift is dramatic, but it follows a quieter trend already in place across the Channel. In England, nearly all schools have imposed mobile phone bans on their own, even without a national law mandating it. A 2025 survey by the Children’s Commissioner for England found that 99.8% of primary schools and 90% of secondary schools now limit or fully prohibit phone use during school hours.

Most of these bans are enforced through local policy rather than central edict, but the intention is clear: curtail the digital chaos. In many schools, students must hand in their phones at the start of the day, while others require devices to remain out of sight and silent. These measures, educators say, have curbed classroom disruption and reduced incidents of bullying, sexting, and attention-related behavioral issues.

However, Education Secretary Bridget Phillipson has hesitated to introduce a nationwide ban, fearing it would be seen as a top-down overreach. Critics argue that the Conservative Party's earlier attempts to legislate a ban were more about electoral posturing than education. Regardless, school-level adoption has proved effective in standardizing expectations and preserving the sanctity of the classroom.

Daniel Kebede, head of the National Education Union, has gone further—calling for a statutory ban and likening social media companies to tobacco firms. “They’ve hooked a generation on dopamine loops,” he warned. “We have a duty to protect children from tech giants who profit from their attention spans.”

France and England are not alone. South Korea, a nation known for its high-pressure academic culture and advanced digital infrastructure, is now entertaining its own legislative response to smartphone overuse in schools. A bill currently under discussion in the National Assembly proposes a nationwide ban on student phone use during school hours, citing mental health concerns, declining grades, and rising rates of school absenteeism.

Lawmakers backing the bill argue that smartphones are undermining Korea’s reputation for academic rigor. “It’s not about being anti-technology,” said Assemblywoman Yoon Hye-jin, one of the bill’s proponents. “It’s about creating an environment where students can concentrate, build real friendships, and reduce dependence on instant gratification.”

The proposed Korean law has sparked intense debate. Tech companies and some parents argue that blanket bans could do more harm than good, especially in emergencies or for students with special needs. However, a growing coalition of teachers, mental health professionals, and civic groups insists that the psychological toll of unregulated phone use outweighs the benefits.

Do Phone Bans Actually Work?

Despite the growing popularity of mobile phone bans in schools, the scientific evidence supporting their effectiveness is still contested. While anecdotal reports from teachers and administrators are overwhelmingly positive—pointing to better classroom management, fewer behavioral problems, and improved peer interaction—systematic studies paint a more nuanced picture.

Recent research by the London School of Economics and corroborated by a review from France’s National Research Agency suggests that phone bans alone do not significantly boost academic performance. While short-term improvements in focus and attendance are observed, standardized test scores and mental health metrics often remain unchanged.

A 2024 meta-analysis concluded that the presence or absence of mobile phones in schools has no consistent, measurable impact on grades or emotional well-being. One possible reason is that underlying problems—such as stress, inequality, and curriculum rigidity—remain unaddressed by phone bans. Moreover, once students leave the school premises, their digital habits return in full force.

“Phone bans are like putting a Band-Aid on a broken arm,” says behavioral psychologist Léa Durand. “They help temporarily, but without teaching digital literacy and self-regulation, you’re not solving the deeper issue.”

This has led some experts to advocate for a hybrid approach—structured digital access in the classroom combined with explicit instruction in healthy media habits. “We shouldn’t just confiscate the phones,” argues British educator Sarah Green. “We should teach students how to use them wisely, when to unplug, and how to guard their attention in a world designed to hijack it.”

The push to regulate mobile phone use in schools underscores a deeper societal anxiety about the role of technology in children’s lives. While bans provide a clean and simple solution to complex problems, they risk oversimplifying the issue. There is a difference between eliminating a distraction and cultivating focus; between enforcing silence and inspiring curiosity.

In France, the phone ban has already begun to spark philosophical discussions about the role of education itself. Should schools be sanctuaries of uninterrupted thought, or should they embrace and guide digital realities? Should policies treat technology as a threat to be excluded, or a tool to be mastered?

In England and Korea, where the bans are either grassroots or pending legislation, the same tension exists. How do we honor both the need for discipline and the imperative to prepare students for a tech-saturated world?

These questions are not easy to answer. But they are worth asking—especially as the first generation to grow up fully online begins to navigate the world of work, relationships, and civic engagement.

France’s decision to escalate its mobile phone ban in middle schools is both a warning and a mirror. It warns of a world where attention has become the most endangered resource. And it mirrors a collective unease with the omnipresence of devices that promise connection but often deliver distraction.

Yet as powerful as bans may be, they cannot replace education—true education—about technology’s grip on our minds. Nor can they solve the social, psychological, and pedagogical challenges that led to the overuse of phones in the first place.

The smartphone may be this generation’s forbidden fruit, but rather than casting it out of Eden, perhaps we need to teach students how to eat from it wisely.

Because the real test is not how well students behave without their phones—but how wisely they live with them.

The Justification: Targeting ‘Ineffective’ and ‘Ideological’ Training
Legal Resistance and a Supreme Court Setback
Public Backlash and the Case for Investment in Teachers

The Justification: Targeting ‘Ineffective’ and ‘Ideological’ Training

In early 2025, the Trump administration ignited a national firestorm with a sweeping decision to eliminate nearly $600 million in federal grants designated for teacher-training programs. The cuts, aimed at programs long supported by both Democratic and Republican administrations—including the Supporting Effective Educator Development (SEED) grants, Teacher Quality Partnership Program, and the Teacher and School Leader Incentive Program—have disrupted schools and colleges that rely on these funds to recruit, train, and retain qualified educators.

While the administration claims the programs were “ineffective” and rooted in divisive diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) frameworks, the move has drawn backlash from educators, teacher preparation organizations, legal experts, and state leaders. Beyond the legal tussles and Supreme Court rulings, the issue has triggered a deeper national conversation: What value does America place on its teachers? And what happens when the system meant to support them is dismantled?

The teacher-training grant cuts came as part of a larger initiative by President Trump to reshape the federal role in education. In tandem with efforts to downsize—and potentially abolish—the Department of Education, the administration declared that federally funded teacher training was “ideological,” lacking in results, and an unnecessary expenditure of taxpayer dollars.

These grants had previously fueled programs designed to address teacher shortages, elevate instructional quality, and diversify the educator pipeline. Colleges of education, particularly those serving low-income and rural communities, leaned heavily on these funds to prepare the next generation of teachers.

But in a series of directives issued in February 2025, the Department of Education, under Trump-appointed Secretary Everett Nord, terminated the grants abruptly. The justification? The programs were “ineffective” and often promoted “radical DEI ideologies” deemed inappropriate for federal sponsorship. For institutions already in mid-implementation of multi-year training programs, the sudden loss of funds created chaos.

At the heart of this controversy lies a belief strongly held by President Trump and his education policy advisors: that American teacher training is fundamentally broken. During a speech in March 2025, Trump criticized colleges of education as “out-of-touch bureaucracies” that “produce weak, woke teachers who can’t manage a classroom, let alone educate one.”

The administration's position aligns with certain conservative critiques that argue teacher-preparation programs are overly theoretical, overly politicized, and disconnected from classroom realities. They contend that many teacher candidates leave these programs ill-equipped to address real-world challenges like classroom management, discipline, and curriculum delivery.

Indeed, a 2024 study by the National Council on Teacher Quality found considerable variation in program quality across the nation. Some conservative education reformers argue that public money should be directed only to programs with a demonstrable return on investment—preferably those that embrace alternative certification models like Teach For America or school district-run residencies.

But educators, unions, and research-based institutions argue that such a view cherry-picks data and disregards the complexity of what makes an effective teacher. “You don’t improve outcomes by slashing support and labeling everyone ineffective,” said Linda Darling-Hammond, president of the Learning Policy Institute. “You do it by building capacity, not burning it down.”

Legal Resistance and a Supreme Court Setback

The administration’s decision was met with swift legal resistance. Eight states—California, Colorado, Illinois, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, and Wisconsin—filed a lawsuit challenging the Department of Education’s actions, claiming the termination violated federal statutes and was politically motivated.

A U.S. District Court initially sided with the states, ordering the department to reinstate the funding pending the outcome of the legal proceedings. However, in a pivotal decision on April 4, 2025, the U.S. Supreme Court reversed the injunction in a 5–4 ruling, allowing the administration to proceed with the cuts. The Court’s majority reasoned that the district court lacked jurisdiction and that funding disputes of this nature fall under the purview of the Court of Federal Claims.

Legal scholars noted that while the ruling was procedural, it effectively handed the administration a major policy victory. The Supreme Court’s decision opened the door for federal agencies to reinterpret—or rescind—grant agreements, even after they had been awarded.

Despite the Supreme Court’s ruling, educators and advocacy groups across the country have vowed to continue fighting. The American Association of Colleges for Teacher Education (AACTE), the National Center for Teacher Residencies (NCTR), and other institutions affected by the cuts launched a second wave of litigation. A federal judge later issued a narrowly scoped injunction, reinstating grants for those specific plaintiffs.

On the ground, many institutions are working around the cuts by forging partnerships with philanthropic organizations and state education departments. In some states, legislatures are exploring ways to bridge the funding gap with emergency allocations, though not all states have the budgetary flexibility to do so.

Beyond the courtrooms and budget meetings, teacher candidates are also organizing. Groups of education students from the University of Maryland, Cal State Fullerton, and other campuses have staged protests, arguing that the federal government is undermining their future careers and the nation’s educational stability.

“This isn’t just about money—it’s about being told that our work doesn’t matter,” said Mia Torres, a graduate student at Hunter College’s School of Education. “They say we’re ineffective, but most of us haven’t even made it to our first classroom yet. We’re not giving up.”

Public Backlash and the Case for Investment in Teachers

Trump’s remark that teacher training programs are ineffective has resonated differently across the public and academic spectrum. While some conservative media outlets applauded the administration for taking a tough stance on wasteful spending, a broader swath of educators and the general public view the critique as an oversimplification at best—and a political smear at worst.

Public polling conducted by Pew Research in March 2025 found that 62% of Americans support federal funding for teacher training, with support particularly strong among suburban voters and parents of school-age children. More than half of respondents said they believe teacher shortages are among the top three challenges facing public education today.

Critics of the administration’s position argue that teacher preparation is one of the most underfunded and misunderstood pillars of the education system. They point out that most high-performing countries—including Finland, Singapore, and South Korea—invest heavily in rigorous teacher training as a cornerstone of educational excellence.

“We don’t hear leaders in those countries saying their teachers are ineffective,” said Pedro Noguera, dean of the USC Rossier School of Education. “What we hear is respect, trust, and investment. We should be learning from them, not gutting the very programs that train our educators.”

Even moderate and right-leaning education experts have pushed back. A recent editorial in the National Review conceded that while teacher training has room for improvement, eliminating grants wholesale does not address the core challenges. “Reform, not eradication, is the answer,” the piece argued, warning that the cuts could leave America “woefully underprepared for a looming teacher deficit.”

As the dust settles on this initial wave of legal and political wrangling, one thing remains clear: the fight over teacher training is far from over. While Trump’s allies frame the cuts as a victory for fiscal discipline and ideological clarity, his critics see them as a step backward—a dismantling of systems designed to ensure every child has access to a well-prepared teacher.

In the coming months, more lawsuits may unfold. Congressional Democrats are reportedly drafting legislation to restore at least partial funding to the eliminated programs. Meanwhile, teacher preparation programs are racing to adapt to a new fiscal reality, revisiting budgets, reconfiguring residencies, and appealing for state-level support.

For now, America’s educators are left with a troubling paradox: they are being asked to solve some of the nation’s most urgent problems—from learning loss to equity gaps—while being told that the tools to prepare them are not worth the investment.

The Trump administration’s decision to cut teacher-training grants has laid bare the ideological divisions shaping American education. It raises critical questions about accountability, effectiveness, and the role of government in shaping the teacher workforce. But perhaps more profoundly, it reveals how politicized—and precarious—the act of preparing educators has become.

At a time when teachers are being asked to do more with less, from navigating student mental health crises to managing digital classrooms, stripping away foundational support sends a chilling message. As the legal battles unfold and public debate continues, one thing is certain: America’s teachers—and those preparing to join their ranks—won’t stop fighting for the resources, respect, and recognition they deserve.

“Troubling News”: UMass and the Invisible Hand of ICE
The California Shockwave
Protest, Detention, and the National Security Narrative

“Troubling News”: UMass and the Invisible Hand of ICE

In the quiet corridors of Stanford University, where students shuffle between late-night labs and historic lecture halls, an unexpected wave of fear has begun to take hold. It started with whispers—rumors that student visas were being revoked without warning, that Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) was quietly updating databases, and that foreign-born students were being detained for reasons no one fully understood. By Sunday, those whispers turned into headlines. The prestigious California institution confirmed that six of its international community members—four current students and two recent graduates—had suddenly lost their legal status in the United States.

Across the country, similar stories began to surface. From Amherst to Austin, Berkeley to Boulder, foreign students found themselves ensnared in a sweeping crackdown launched by the Trump administration. The campaign, aimed at rooting out what officials describe as national security threats and potential criminal actors, has largely focused on international students involved in pro-Palestinian activism or other forms of political expression.

The message from Washington was clear: protest, and you may be punished. But for the hundreds of students affected—many of whom had done nothing more than attend demonstrations or express political views—the consequences have been severe and deeply unsettling.

At the University of Massachusetts Amherst, the news came late on a Friday night. Chancellor Javier Reyes, in a message posted to the school’s website, revealed that five international students had their visas revoked and their legal status terminated by ICE. The university had not been formally informed of the revocations. Instead, staff discovered the changes by conducting routine checks in SEVIS—the government-run Student and Exchange Visitor Information System.

“I regret sending this news so late on a Friday,” Reyes wrote, “but given that we learned of some of these revocations this evening, I felt it important to share this troubling news at this time.”

UMass Amherst, the largest public university in the state, is home to a vibrant international student population. But in recent weeks, many have grown wary. The lack of transparency from federal authorities, paired with ICE’s ability to act without prior notice, has left administrators and students in a state of ongoing anxiety. “We will continue monitoring SEVIS for further updates,” Reyes added, noting the administration had no way of knowing how many more students might be next.

The situation at UMass is not isolated. Earlier that same week, Minnesota State University at Mankato confirmed that five more international students had their visas revoked. The school, too, discovered the issue only after conducting its own checks following the detention of a Turkish student at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, arrested over a drunk driving conviction. It’s unclear if that arrest triggered the SEVIS reviews, but the dominoes had already begun to fall.

The California Shockwave

While East Coast institutions tried to understand what was happening, the University of California system found itself at the epicenter of the storm. Across multiple campuses, dozens of students and alumni suddenly lost their legal standing in the United States.

- At UC Berkeley, six individuals—one undergraduate, three graduate students, and two recent alumni on STEM-OPT extensions—had their visas revoked.

- UC San Diego reported the revocation of five student visas.

- At UC Davis, the number was even higher: seven current students and five recent graduates.

- UC Irvine declined to disclose specific numbers, citing privacy and safety, but said it was “providing guidance and resources to support our community.”

- At UCLA, Chancellor Julio Frenk confirmed that six current students and six recent graduates—also on OPT—had lost their visa status.

“This can bring feelings of tremendous uncertainty and anxiety to our community,” Frenk said. “We want our immigrant and international UCLA students, staff and faculty to know we support your ability to work, learn, teach and thrive here.”

The UC system issued a broader statement echoing these concerns: “This is a fluid situation, and we continue to monitor and assess its implications for the UC community and the people affected. We are committed to doing what we can to support all members of our community as they exercise their rights under the law.”

Despite the sweeping impact, federal authorities have provided no formal explanation to the universities, or the students involved. The common thread, however, seems to be political expression—particularly around the subject of pro-Palestinian activism.

The Trump administration’s crackdown has not been limited to revocations of visas. It has extended into high-profile arrests, as federal agencies seek to link student activists to alleged national security threats.

One of the most prominent cases is that of Mahmoud Khalil, a student at Columbia University. Khalil, who had been active in anti-Israel protests, was arrested and accused of supporting Hamas. He is currently the subject of legal proceedings in federal court, with the government seeking to move his case to Louisiana.

In Massachusetts, Rumeysa Ozturk, a Turkish Ph.D. student at Tufts University, was arrested by ICE in late March after publishing an anti-Israel op-ed in the campus newspaper. Her arrest sparked widespread outcry, with civil liberties advocates calling it a dangerous overreach.

Then there’s Alireza Doroudi, an Iranian doctoral student at the University of Alabama, who had his visa revoked in 2023 but was told he could remain in the U.S. while continuing his studies. That promise ended abruptly when federal agents arrested him in the middle of the night last month. The Department of Homeland Security later claimed that Doroudi “posed significant national security concerns,” though they declined to elaborate on the specifics.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio, a key figure in the administration’s immigration policy apparatus, has openly acknowledged that the State Department has revoked over 300 student visas in recent months. According to Rubio, the actions target not only those allegedly involved in criminal activity but also those tied to “anti-American” or “anti-Israel” protests.

Rubio’s comments suggest that political affiliation or speech—especially when tied to pro-Palestinian or anti-Israel causes—is being treated as a red flag by federal agencies. This has raised alarm bells among legal scholars, university administrators, and civil rights organizations, who argue that such actions may violate constitutional protections of free speech and due process, even for non-citizens.

Protest, Detention, and the National Security Narrative

In most cases, affected universities learned of the visa cancellations only after the fact, often through SEVIS database checks. There has been no clear pattern of notification or explanation, and the federal government has offered no public list of those targeted or the criteria used. Schools have been left to piece together what they can, often while navigating privacy restrictions and mounting panic among international students.

For students, the consequences are immediate and devastating. A revoked visa often means the loss of not only legal status, but also housing, income, health care, and academic progress. Some have been forced to leave the country within days; others have been detained without knowing why.

Still others remain in limbo—unsure whether they will be next.

“I just want to finish my degree,” said one affected student, speaking anonymously through an advocacy group. “I came here to study, to learn, not to be treated like a threat.”

Universities are trying to provide legal aid, counseling services, and emergency housing to those who have been affected. But the sheer lack of federal coordination, combined with the climate of fear, has made even these basic acts of support difficult to sustain.

What began as a quiet immigration policy shift has now become a defining battle over the rights of international students, academic freedom, and the future of political expression on U.S. campuses. The Trump administration’s aggressive revocation campaign—cloaked in language about security and legality—has left hundreds of students disenfranchised, dozens detained, and entire institutions grappling with legal and ethical uncertainty.

As universities from coast to coast confront this new reality, a fundamental question looms: Can international students safely express their beliefs on American soil—or has political speech become grounds for expulsion?

In the absence of transparency, and with federal agencies operating in silence, the answer grows more ominous by the day.

Disillusionment and Departure: The American Exodus Begins
Northbound, Again: Tech Workers Reconsider Canada—and Then Recoil
Policy Crossroads: Will Canada Catch or Miss the Wave?

Disillusionment and Departure: The American Exodus Begins

In the shadow of Silicon Valley, a final-year University of Waterloo software engineering student found himself flooded with job offers from both Canadian and American tech companies. Yet the decision was almost automatic. After interning with social media platform X, he signed on with a major U.S. tech firm. “American salaries are easily double or triple Canadian salaries right after graduation, and the gap only gets bigger with seniority,” he said, requesting anonymity out of career concerns.

This isn’t a novel phenomenon. For decades, the brightest Canadian minds have headed south in pursuit of better pay, bigger networks, and faster career progression. A study by startup consultant Charles Plant found that 10% of all Canadian STEM graduates end up working in the U.S., with numbers significantly higher for software engineering grads from schools like Waterloo, McGill, and UBC. Among the 2022 cohort of Waterloo software engineers, 71% reportedly took U.S. job offers.

However, a new twist is reshaping this narrative. As Donald Trump reasserts influence in American politics and begins implementing sweeping changes in scientific and economic policy, a reverse brain drain is slowly forming. This time, it’s not just tech-savvy engineers or entrepreneurial talent departing Canada—it’s American doctors, scientists, and academic researchers looking north for a new start. If Canadian institutions can respond wisely, this could be a historic opportunity.

For Jason Stanley, Yale University’s Jacob Urowsky Professor of Philosophy, the breaking point came when academic freedom itself was threatened. A world-renowned scholar and author of How Fascism Works and Erasing History, Stanley announced in March that he was leaving Yale for the Munk School of Global Affairs and Public Policy in Toronto.

“No noncitizen professor at my institution can speak freely about politics ever again,” he declared. His decision came amid what he called a “fascist regime” taking shape in the United States—one where DEI programs were dismantled, NIH and NSF budgets slashed, and criticism of systemic racism criminalized under vague education laws.

Stanley won’t be alone in Canada. Historians Timothy Snyder and Marci Shore, also from Yale, have joined him as part of an academic “resistance cell” at Munk. Their goal: to train journalists, politicians, and civil society leaders from nations experiencing democratic backsliding. “We will work to solidify Canadian democracy in the face of this onslaught,” Stanley told CBC.

Stanley’s story is emblematic of a broader migration now under way. At CanAm Physician Recruiting Inc., founder John Philpott reports an unprecedented flood of 20 to 30 daily inquiries from U.S. doctors seeking Canadian placements. “It’s huge,” he said, noting open roles for family doctors, OB/GYNs, ER physicians, and specialists across the country.

Fueling this exodus are Trump-era policies targeting science and public health. With over 20,000 jobs cut from U.S. health agencies, hundreds of millions in grants frozen, and entire labs defunded—particularly those focusing on sex, gender, and reproductive health—many researchers are now in freefall.

A poll from Nature found that three-quarters of U.S. scientists are considering leaving the country, with Canada among the top destinations. Dr. Stephen Archer, a former U.S. faculty member and current director at Queen’s University, likened the scale of disillusionment to the Vietnam War draft exodus. “There’s a disturbance in the force,” he said. “Americans are considering moves they wouldn’t have considered before.”

Yet institutional hurdles remain. Canadian universities are facing hiring freezes, tight budgets, and lagging research funding. The Canadian Institutes of Health Research operates with a budget of just $1.2 billion, compared to $45 billion at the NIH in the U.S.

Still, Canada has moved quickly in some areas. Ontario, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Saskatchewan now fully license American-trained doctors without additional exams. 347 U.S. physicians registered with Philpott’s agency in the past year, including 141 in just the last three months. According to the College of Family Physicians of Canada, certifications via fast-track routes have surged 300% since 2018.

Northbound, Again: Tech Workers Reconsider Canada—and Then Recoil

While American scientists and medical professionals look north, Canada’s own tech workers may be heading in the opposite direction.

The U.S. remains a powerful magnet for Canadian STEM talent. Bilal Akhtar, a Waterloo software engineering grad who now works for DataBricks, said most of his peers moved south immediately after graduation. “If Trump makes it easier for skilled workers to work there, I can definitely see more folks going,” he said.

During Trump’s first term, Canada benefited from strict U.S. immigration policies, attracting H-1B visa holders and skilled migrants. But Trump’s second-term tone has shifted. He now supports "legal immigration" to support manufacturing, and has signaled interest in reforming H-1B programs, with Elon Musk pledging to defend them from restrictionists. That’s a game-changer.

Canadians don’t even need an H-1B visa—they can work in the U.S. through TN visas under the USMCA agreement, making them especially attractive to U.S. employers. Immigration lawyer Jonathan Grode confirms that once they secure this visa, they avoid extreme vetting procedures required of other nationalities.

But the reverse pull is more than just immigration logistics. U.S. tech salaries are 46% higher than Canadian salaries, even after adjusting for cost of living and exchange rates, according to a Toronto Metropolitan University report. U.S. firms also offer bigger networks, more funding, and access to cutting-edge projects. For young engineers, it’s often too tempting to pass up.

The cost of trying to retain this talent is rising. Rob Darling, founder of Kitchener-based startup runQL, described Canada as a “declining market” for engineers, citing Ottawa’s proposed capital gains tax hike and a cooling venture capital landscape. Immigration law firms have also reported a dramatic uptick in Canadian business owners seeking to relocate to the U.S.—from a handful of inquiries per month to daily contacts.

Despite all this, there are still reasons to stay. Akhtar praised Canada’s predictable immigration pathways, social benefits, and work-life balance. “We have a lot of good ingredients here,” he said. “We just need to use them well.”

Policy Crossroads: Will Canada Catch or Miss the Wave?

Canada stands at a pivotal intersection. On one hand, it could become a global sanctuary for disillusioned American scholars, scientists, and clinicians—a place where truth is pursued without fear and innovation flourishes with integrity. On the other, it faces the risk of losing its brightest tech minds, drawn south by money, opportunity, and momentum.

Experts argue that timid, piecemeal policies will not suffice. CIGI’s James Hinton warns: “Even if you get 90 percent right and 10 percent wrong, you lose.” In the digital economy, small gaps in immigration, tax, or innovation policy can drain national value at scale.

What can be done?

- Expand research funding to make Canada competitive in biomedical sciences.

- Create special hiring tracks and start-up funding for displaced U.S. academics.

- Double down on fast-track medical licensure pathways to integrate U.S. clinicians into Canadian healthcare.

- Secure larger venture capital rounds so startups can recruit and retain local talent.

- Launch national recruitment campaigns akin to the anti-tariff billboard effort—welcoming U.S. doctors, researchers, and founders with concrete offers.

Dr. Archer supports reviving the Alberta Heritage Foundation model, which once offered million-dollar start-up packages to global scientists. Dr. Raywat Deonandan, an epidemiologist and science communicator, adds: “Offer them everything—money, tax breaks, Raptors tickets. Whatever it takes!”

Some skeptics question the fairness of prioritizing foreign talent when Canadian professionals feel overlooked. But Deonandan offers a sports analogy: “If you try to win the cup, you have to attract the free agents. Then use the success to build your team.”

Jason Stanley’s move to Canada isn’t just symbolic. It represents a growing shift in global brainpower—a migration driven by authoritarian threats, politicized science, and disillusionment with democracy’s decline. Meanwhile, Canada has the opportunity to welcome these minds—but only if it can retain its own.

The choice ahead is clear: compete globally, invest nationally, and act decisively. If Canada succeeds, it could secure not just talent—but leadership in medicine, science, and technology for a generation to come.

The world’s brightest minds are moving. The question is: will they choose Canada to stay—or just pass through?

The Tension Between Compassion and Academic Rigor
A Global Reckoning With What Grades Really Mean
Looking Forward With Clarity and Care

The Tension Between Compassion and Academic Rigor

On a quiet March morning in 2020, the halls of Parker School in Illinois fell silent. Just days before, they had been filled with the chatter of students rushing to class, the shuffle of papers in lockers, the buzz of a typical American school day. Then came the email, classes were canceled due to the novel coronavirus. Students would not be returning anytime soon. For Parker’s administrators, teachers, and students, the closure felt like hitting pause on reality.

At first, there was hope that the disruption would be temporary—just a few weeks of online learning until the virus passed. But soon, it became clear that nothing about this moment was temporary. Life had changed. Schools across the globe were going remote, and educators had to do something they had never done before: reimagine what learning looked like in a world where classrooms no longer existed.

That March, Parker introduced a new grading policy, one that would become symbolic of a global educational shift. It was called “non-negative” grading—a simple but radical idea that students’ grades during the pandemic could not be worse than the grades they held before the closure. If a student had a B on March 13, nothing that happened afterward would drag that grade down.

The policy followed recommendations from the Illinois State Board of Education, which urged schools to prioritize student well-being during what was, for many, the most difficult period of their young lives. It wasn't just about missed assignments. Students were coping with loss, illness, fear, and upheaval at home. To punish them academically for struggling would be, as officials said, a harm too great to justify.

And so the grades stopped falling. But something else started happening. Across Canada, the U.S., Italy, and Turkey, similar policies took root. Teachers relaxed deadlines. Exams were canceled or modified. Pass/fail grading became the norm in many places. And even as students and instructors widely acknowledged that less learning was taking place, grades began to rise. In Canada, GPA inflation surged across universities during remote semesters, with some programs reporting jumps equivalent to a full letter grade—from B to B+. The paradox was hard to ignore: learning was down, but grades were up.

In the UK, students receiving their 2023 GCSE results found themselves in the middle of another recalibration. For the first time since the start of the pandemic, grading standards returned to pre-2020 norms. Over 640,000 students received their results that year, and while many had feared a sharp drop, the numbers were surprisingly consistent. 22.4% of entries achieved top grades (Grade 7 and above), and 70.3% received a standard pass. Both figures were slightly up from 2019.

Education officials credited this not just to students’ resilience, but to modest supports built into the system: formula sheets for math and science exams, longer intervals between test dates to give students more time to study, and a commitment to transparency and fairness.

Still, the experience left a question lingering in schools from London to Chicago: what should grades mean in a world turned upside down?

The fall of 2020 brought Parker back to that question with fresh urgency. The Illinois state mandates had expired. No longer bound by emergency guidelines, the school had to decide for itself how to grade students in a world still gripped by crisis.

Inside virtual staff meetings, the debate took on philosophical weight. Should Parker continue with non-negative grading? Should it move to pass/fail? Or was it time to return to something closer to “normal”?

Sven Carlsson, the school’s Middle and Upper School Director of Studies, laid out four possible paths: the Standard Letter Grade (SLG) model, which assigns A to F marks; Standards-Based Grading (SBG), which emphasizes mastery of specific skills; a Narrative Exclusive model that replaces grades with detailed written feedback; and Ranges, a simplified system like High Pass/Pass/Fail.

Parker had long prided itself on being a progressive institution, unafraid to challenge traditional norms. Yet as the school community weighed its options, a consensus began to form: it was time to return to SLG—but with an important twist.

Yes, students would once again receive letter grades. But the school would make room for compassion, recognizing that even though classrooms had reopened online, the pandemic wasn’t over. If a student’s Wi-Fi cut out during an exam, if they were caring for a sick family member, if they just needed more time—teachers would be understanding. Extensions and resubmissions were built into the system. The goal, as Carlsson put it, was rigor with humanity.

Other schools followed suit. Latin and Lab, both prestigious institutions in Chicago, also brought back standard grading, though Lab allowed an opt-in pass/fail option. For many educators, the return to SLG was not a nostalgic retreat to old habits, but a practical way to create structure and clarity in a time still full of uncertainty.

Yet not everyone was convinced. “Our grading system does not accurately reflect the fact that we are still in a pandemic,” said Benjamin Kagan, a freshman at Parker. He worried the shift back to letter grades would ignore the persistent challenges students continued to face.

But others saw the new policy as a balance between past and present. “This grading system is a good representation of Parker’s progressive mission,” said sophomore Lucas Daskal. “It’s head and shoulders above what was put into place last March.”

This division in student opinion highlights the deeper challenge schools face: crafting policies that are both equitable and effective, both compassionate and consistent.

A Global Reckoning With What Grades Really Mean

Beyond Parker, the conversation about grading was unfolding on an international scale. A Canadian study tracking GPA trends across disciplines revealed that not all faculties were recovering equally from pandemic inflation. Engineering, business, and health sciences returned to pre-pandemic GPA levels within a year. But humanities and social sciences—where assessments are more subjective and external accountability is looser—continued to see inflated grades years later.

In more standardized disciplines, like engineering or accounting, external licensing exams and program accreditation helped rein in inflation. In Canada, for example, engineering students must pass the Professional Practice Examination to enter the field. Business students eyeing careers in accounting must prepare for the CPA Canada final exam. These benchmarks serve as strong anchors for academic rigor.

But in the humanities, where expression and interpretation are central, subjectivity rules. Essays and discussions don’t always lend themselves to uniform rubrics. Without external exams or certifications to backstop evaluation, inflated grades—once introduced—are harder to walk back.

The consequences are real. If grades lose their signaling power, employers and universities struggle to differentiate between students who have mastered the material and those who benefitted from leniency. The danger is that grades become less a reflection of ability and more a relic of policy.

In response, educators and researchers have begun floating possible solutions. One idea is to adopt inflation-adjusted GPAs, similar to how economists adjust past wages for modern value. If the top 15% of students pre-pandemic had GPAs of 8/10, the top 15% in a post-pandemic cohort could be scaled to match that same benchmark.

Others suggest more widespread use of grading rubrics, even in subjective disciplines, to bring consistency and transparency to evaluations.

Meanwhile, the UK’s 2023 GCSE cycle showed that a return to traditional grading, with support, could succeed. As students earned grades comparable to 2019, they also embraced new subjects at higher rates. Computer science entries rose by 13.5% since 2019, including a notable increase among girls. Modern foreign language entries increased by 9.2% compared to 2019, bolstered by a £14.9 million investment in the language hubs program.

Despite the disruption, students were not deterred. They adapted. They grew. They persisted.

Looking Forward With Clarity and Care

Today, as virtual learning persists in some form and in some places, and as schools continue to reflect on the pandemic’s legacy, the story of grading remains unfinished.

For Parker, the decision to return to SLG—with built-in compassion—is more than a policy choice. It’s a bet on resilience. It’s a commitment to fairness. And it’s a recognition that while crises demand change, they also offer an opportunity to rethink what success truly means.

“We talk about grades a lot,” Carlsson once told his students. “But the ultimate significance of a Parker education is found in your empathy, curiosity, and mastery. Not just in the letters on your transcript.”

In the end, perhaps the most important grade from this time won’t be on any report card. It will be in how schools, students, and societies learned to measure growth when the old metrics no longer applied—and how, together, they redefined achievement in the most uncertain of times.

A Supreme Showdown Over War Powers and Immigration
Judicial Dissent and the Ghosts of Korematsu
Resurrecting a Dormant Power—and Redefining Presidential Authority

A Supreme Showdown Over War Powers and Immigration

On a quiet April morning in 2025, three U.S. government-chartered planes landed in El Salvador, carrying over a hundred Venezuelan men who had been swiftly deported from the United States. The men, many confused, some visibly distressed, were ushered into the gates of the Center for Terrorism Confinement (CECOT)—a maximum-security prison internationally criticized for its harsh conditions. Their removal wasn’t the result of lengthy court trials or due process, but the outcome of a rarely used 18th-century law: the Alien Enemies Act of 1798.

President Donald Trump, in his renewed bid to reshape immigration enforcement during his second term, had turned to this centuries-old statute. Originally crafted during fears of war with France, the Act allows the president to detain or deport foreign nationals from enemy countries during times of war or invasion. For most of modern American history, it remained dormant—used only a handful of times during officially declared wars, most notably World War II. Until now.

Trump’s administration invoked the Alien Enemies Act not to remove enemy soldiers or agents of a foreign state, but to deport undocumented Venezuelans allegedly affiliated with the criminal syndicate Tren de Aragua. The gang, originating in Venezuelan prisons, has been blamed for violent crimes across Latin America and, more recently, for expanding its presence into U.S. cities. Labeling the organization a foreign terrorist group, Trump framed its members as conducting “irregular warfare” against the United States—effectively casting gang violence as an act of invasion.

By leaning on the Alien Enemies Act, the administration bypassed traditional immigration courts and due process protections. The result was a fast-moving deportation campaign that swept up at least 137 individuals, according to official records. And as these deportations were carried out, a legal firestorm began.

Alarmed by the administration’s strategy, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) filed suit on behalf of five detained Venezuelan migrants. The case was brought before U.S. District Judge James Boasberg, who issued a temporary injunction halting the deportations, ruling that the use of the Alien Enemies Act in this context demanded judicial scrutiny.

Boasberg wasn’t convinced that Trump’s framing of the situation met the constitutional bar for war powers. Moreover, he chastised the government’s response to the court’s inquiry as “woefully insufficient.” Though two of the deportation flights had already departed, the court's intervention stopped further removals—at least temporarily.

The Trump administration quickly appealed. The D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld Boasberg’s injunction, agreeing that there were unanswered constitutional questions about applying a wartime statute in the absence of a formal war declaration, which only Congress can authorize. But that victory for civil liberties was short-lived.

The administration made an emergency appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court, framing the issue as one of executive authority in foreign policy and national security. Trump’s team argued that Judge Boasberg had no jurisdiction over the case and that decisions about deporting foreign nationals accused of threatening public safety should rest with the presidency, not the courts.

On April 7, 2025, the Supreme Court issued a 5–4 unsigned opinion allowing the deportations to resume—with conditions. The Court vacated Boasberg’s injunction and sided procedurally with the Trump administration. It ruled that the ACLU’s challenge had been filed in the wrong jurisdiction—Washington, D.C.—and must instead be pursued in Texas, where the migrants were detained.

However, the Court didn’t give the administration a blank check. It specified that individuals subject to removal under the Alien Enemies Act must receive adequate notice and be given “reasonable time” to file habeas corpus petitions—the traditional legal method of challenging unlawful detention—in the correct venue. It effectively ruled that deportation under the statute could proceed, but not without the procedural protections afforded by due process.

Even this limited safeguard was enough for both the ACLU and the administration to claim partial victory. “The critical point,” said Lee Gelernt, the ACLU’s lead attorney, “is that the Supreme Court said individuals must be given due process to challenge their removal under the Alien Enemies Act.”

But with the Court’s conditions, a new challenge arose: how detainees—many non-English-speaking and without legal representation—could realistically file petitions from inside detention centers in Texas, governed by the conservative Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, known for its deference to executive power.

Judicial Dissent and the Ghosts of Korematsu

Not all justices agreed with the majority. Justice Sonia Sotomayor, joined by Justices Elena Kagan, Ketanji Brown Jackson, and even conservative Justice Amy Coney Barrett, issued a blistering dissent. They condemned the administration’s rush to deport individuals before courts could assess the legality of the removals. Sotomayor wrote that the government’s behavior in the case “poses an extraordinary threat to the rule of law.”

Justice Barrett, though not penning her own opinion, joined the portion of Sotomayor’s dissent questioning whether habeas corpus petitions should be the sole legal avenue available to challenge deportations under the Act.

In a related dissent, Justice Jackson criticized the Court’s reliance on the “emergency docket”—often dubbed the “shadow docket”—to make such consequential decisions without oral arguments or full briefings. She invoked the shameful precedent of Korematsu v. United States, the 1944 case where the Supreme Court upheld Japanese-American internment during World War II. “At least when the Court went off base in the past,” she wrote, “it left a record so posterity could see how it went wrong.”

The parallels were striking. Both cases involved the use of wartime powers to justify extraordinary actions against non-citizens. Both raised concerns about procedural fairness and executive overreach. And both sparked outrage from legal scholars who saw the Court abdicating its duty to check the presidency.

Despite the dissent, the administration celebrated the ruling as a triumph. Trump posted jubilantly on Truth Social, calling it “a great day for justice in America.” He declared that the Court had affirmed the right of any president to “secure our borders and protect our families and our Country.”

Meanwhile, families of the deported were left to pick up the pieces. Some claimed their relatives were wrongly identified as gang members due to tattoos or community rumors. Others were simply undocumented migrants with no history of criminal activity. A few had lived in the U.S. for years. One deportee, Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia, was removed to El Salvador by mistake due to an administrative error—an incident that underscored the risks of fast-track deportations under the guise of national security.

Resurrecting a Dormant Power—and Redefining Presidential Authority

The case of Trump v. J.G.G. and the resurrection of the Alien Enemies Act reveals more than a dispute over immigration policy—it showcases a dramatic expansion of presidential wartime powers in peacetime.

Historically, the Act was used to target citizens of countries with which the U.S. was at war—Germany, Italy, Japan—and only after Congress had declared war. In this instance, there has been no declaration of war against Venezuela, nor against any state actor. Instead, the administration reinterpreted “invasion” to include transnational gang activity, a claim legal experts say stretches the statute’s meaning beyond recognition.

Critics warn that this reinterpretation opens a dangerous precedent. If the executive branch can use wartime authority to remove individuals based on alleged gang affiliation—without a war, trial, or due process—it might pave the way for broader applications against other groups labeled national threats.

Civil rights groups are preparing for prolonged legal battles in the Fifth Circuit. Deportees and their families are organizing to publicize their cases. And legal scholars are urging Congress to review the scope and limits of the Alien Enemies Act, arguing that laws from the 18th century should not override 21st-century constitutional protections.

The Supreme Court ruling may be temporary, and the litigation is far from over. But for those already deported, due process is now a postscript, not a protection.

Whether the courts or Congress act to clarify or limit this authority in the future remains uncertain. What is clear is that the Trump administration has redefined how a wartime law can be used against civilians—not on a battlefield, but in immigration detention centers, courtroom appeals, and midnight deportation flights.