With deep expertise in education management and a focus on supporting institutions through shifting landscapes, Camille Faivre brings a vital perspective to the evolving debate over higher education policy. As a consultant specializing in the development of open and e-learning programs in the post-pandemic era, she has observed firsthand how legislative changes can fundamentally alter the instructional core of a university. The conversation today delves into the complexities of recent budget provisions in Kansas that target “DEI-CRT” courses, exploring the implications for academic freedom, administrative priorities, and the long-term preparedness of graduates entering a global workforce.
Since the term “DEI-CRT” is not explicitly defined in the budget language, what challenges will the State Board of Regents face in creating these definitions? How might the political appointment process for these regents influence the academic standards they eventually set?
The State Board of Regents is being handed a heavy burden because they must now transform a vague political acronym into a functional academic policy. Without a clear legislative definition, these regents—all of whom are political appointees—must decide which specific theories of systemic racism or equity fall under the prohibited “DEI-CRT” umbrella. This creates a high-stakes environment where academic standards may shift based on the ideological makeup of the board, which is currently subject to Senate approval. Because these members are selected through a political process rather than purely academic merits, there is a legitimate fear that the 2028-29 academic year could see curricula dictated by political whims rather than pedagogical research. We could see a situation where established sociological frameworks are suddenly flagged as non-compliant, forcing regents to act as censors for the state’s public colleges.
If public colleges must seek specific exemptions for courses focused on race or gender, how will this shift administrative priorities? What long-term effects could this have on a student’s preparedness for a diverse workforce and their overall competitiveness?
Administrators will likely find themselves mired in a bureaucratic bottleneck, having to justify the existence of every course whose title “clearly establishes” a focus on racial or ethnic studies. Instead of focusing on instructional quality or student retention, deans and provosts will be tasked with drafting petitions to the state regents to prove that a required course is essential despite its subject matter. This creates a “redlined” education, where students may enter the workforce with a redacted understanding of the world around them. In a competitive global market, a graduate who hasn’t been exposed to the complexities of gender or race-related issues may lack the soft skills and cultural competency that 21st-century employers demand. It effectively places a ceiling on a student’s professional growth by limiting their ability to navigate diverse corporate environments.
Given that previous measures already eliminated DEI positions and training, how does targeting mandatory classroom instruction change the institutional landscape? What practical steps can faculty take to maintain academic freedom while complying with these tightening legislative restrictions?
The move from eliminating administrative DEI positions to targeting classroom instruction represents a significant shift from regulating institutional operations to regulating the exchange of ideas. When you ban mandatory DEI training, you change the office environment; when you ban required race-related courses, you change the very intellect of the institution. Faculty members are now in a precarious position where they must ensure their syllabi do not inadvertently trigger a violation while still trying to provide a comprehensive education. Practical steps might include rebranding course titles to appear more “neutral” or framing sensitive topics through historical or legal lenses that are harder to categorize as “DEI-CRT.” However, this creates a chilling effect where instructors might self-censor to avoid the administrative headache of an exemption process, ultimately impoverishing the classroom experience.
With a legislative supermajority capable of overriding executive decisions, what leverage does a governor actually have in these budget negotiations? What are the strategic trade-offs between using a line-item veto versus allowing a bill to become law without a signature?
In a state where Republicans hold a veto-proof supermajority, the governor’s power is more symbolic and communicative than it is a hard check on power. A line-item veto is a direct challenge that often leads to a public override session, as seen in 2025 when lawmakers reversed about half of the governor’s budget vetoes the very next day. By allowing a bill to become law without a signature—a tactic used for the 2024 ban on DEI positions—the governor can signal disapproval to her base without provoking an immediate and embarrassing legislative reversal. It is a strategic calculation used when the executive knows they lack the numbers to win the fight, essentially choosing which hills are worth dying on in a budget that contains dozens of other essential funding priorities. This “middle path” avoids a direct confrontation while acknowledging the political reality of a supermajority that is ready and willing to exert its will.
Much of this specific language is mirrored in model legislation used across several states. How does this standardized approach to policy affect local control over universities, and what metrics should be used to track the resulting changes in student enrollment?
The use of model legislation from groups like the Goldwater Institute or Speech First signifies a nationalized strategy that often ignores the unique needs of local Kansas institutions. This “cookie-cutter” approach to policy erodes the autonomy of individual universities, making them subjects of a broader national ideological battle rather than local centers of learning. To understand the impact, we must look at enrollment metrics, specifically tracking whether there is a decline in out-of-state applications or a drop in recruitment of minority students and faculty. We should also monitor the “brain drain” of academic talent, measuring how many professors leave for institutions in states without such restrictive classroom mandates. If high-achieving students begin choosing neighboring states for their degrees, the economic data will eventually show the true cost of these legislative interventions.
What is your forecast for the future of diversity and race-related instruction in public higher education?
I anticipate a period of “curriculum camouflage” where the core tenets of race and gender studies will be woven into broader, more traditionally named courses to bypass legislative scrutiny. While the “DEI-CRT” label may disappear from course catalogs to satisfy regents, the underlying social realities these subjects address are too integrated into modern scholarship to be erased entirely. However, the immediate future will likely see a decline in the number of required foundational courses in these areas, potentially creating a two-tiered system where only students who actively seek out these electives receive a full perspective. Ultimately, the market will decide; as national employers continue to prioritize inclusive leadership skills, universities may eventually find themselves pressured by the private sector to restore these programs to maintain their competitive edge and prestige.
