The Princeton Gerrymandering Project does nonpartisan analysis to understand and eliminate partisan gerrymandering at a state-by-state level. The Supreme Court acknowledged the validity of our math but declined to act. Looking ahead, the strongest route to reform is at a state-by-state level—a federalist approach. Our interdisciplinary team aims to give activists and legislators the tools they need to detect offenses and craft bulletproof, bipartisan reform. Our analysis is published widely, and our work is used by legislators and reformers of all communities, without regard to partisan affiliation.
Site Navigation
Search
Latest Stories
Start your day right!
Get latest updates and insights delivered to your inbox.
Top Stories
Latest news
Read More
Big Bird and the Count | Selena N. B. H. | Flickr
Barney, Big Bird, and Immigrant Children Need You!
Nov 29, 2025
Barney the purple dinosaur was my first English teacher. Through songs, make-believe, and games, I learned how to greet people, ask kids if they wanted to play, and talk about the weather, which turned out to be useful for conversation in the United States. I also learned about sharing, respecting others, and finding the fun in learning.
Now, with the Presidential administration’s disinvestment in the education system and the cancellation of federal funding geared toward learning, Barney and other PBS favorites like Sesame Street, Arthur, and my personal favorite–The Magic School Bus - have been put on the chopping block by a political system that alleges to prioritize children’s learning. PBS is just one branch under the umbrella of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB), which also includes National Public Radio (NPR) and accounts for hundreds of national and local television shows and radio stations. This information war disenfranchises everyday people from learning and knowledge. Still, it will especially affect the next generation of children, like my son, who, unlike me (and the last six decades of viewers), won’t have the experience of running home from school to turn on the television and learn about thesaurus and jazz music while watching Arthur at 4 pm.
I moved to the United States with my parents from Mexico when I was three. And up until I started school, I did not speak English. Because we didn't have enough money for cable, I would watch the free channels on public television with my younger brother. We loved all the PBS programming and spent a great deal of time watching Julia Child’s and Jacques Pepin’s cooking shows, although we weren’t allowed to use the stove. Yet what I was permitted to do was read sensitive legal and medical documents for my parents, including any school mail.
I later learned that I wasn’t alone in doing this. First-generation immigrant children often have the added responsibility of being their parents' translators or what is known as language brokers in everyday life, but also in particularly high-stakes scenarios like delicate medical appointments, meetings with lawyers, and translating in their parents’ place of employment what the managers, bosses, and supervisors say. This can lead to a variety of outcomes like increased dependence on children, early adultification, and, in some cases, poor mental health outcomes. However, some argue that it also helps children learn responsibility, among other benefits.
Educational television helps children develop the language skills and vocabulary needed in life. For example, language instruction offered via Big Bird and Elmo helps children learn to read, count, and even identify their emotions. As such, during difficult times of war, global pandemics, and migration crises, when children’s learning is negatively impacted, Sesame Street becomes even more important, extending its reach across the globe. Through the leadership of the International Rescue Commission (IRC), Sesame Street has reached children in conflict zones who would otherwise go without educational instruction. Moreover, in an immigrant household, television, and in particular cartoons, play an important role. Not only is television the first introduction to quintessential American culture, but it also can be how children maintain their innocence and wonder through shows like those being defunded on PBS.
These changes and cancellations are happening faster than we think. In September, PBS fired 100 staff members due to this defunding. This month, Sesame Street was “rescued” when its 56th season premiered on Netflix, making the show available only to paid subscribers after half a century of free public access.
To be sure, some may say that those who want to watch Sesame Street should just get a Netflix account, perhaps arguing that “people prioritize it over food anyway.” Yet in an economic climate where groceries are becoming even more unaffordable, many families may have to choose between milk and a monthly Netflix subscription. Inevitably, this harms children. Moreover, in a society that says it values its young, it is troubling that the social, developmental, and educational support needed to raise children is being defunded through a systematic erosion of everyday American educational figures like Barney, Mr. Rogers, and Ms. Frizzle.
The battle over PBS may be lost, but “viewers like you,” you are still needed in opposing the complete erosion of children’s education.
Silvia Rodriguez Vega is an Assistant Professor at the University of California, Santa Barbara, a Public Voices Fellow with the Op-ed Project, and author of Drawing Deportation: Art and Resistance Among Immigrant Children.
Keep ReadingShow less
Recommended
Big Bird and the Count | Selena N. B. H. | Flickr
Barney, Big Bird, and Immigrant Children Need You!
Nov 29, 2025
Barney the purple dinosaur was my first English teacher. Through songs, make-believe, and games, I learned how to greet people, ask kids if they wanted to play, and talk about the weather, which turned out to be useful for conversation in the United States. I also learned about sharing, respecting others, and finding the fun in learning.
Now, with the Presidential administration’s disinvestment in the education system and the cancellation of federal funding geared toward learning, Barney and other PBS favorites like Sesame Street, Arthur, and my personal favorite–The Magic School Bus - have been put on the chopping block by a political system that alleges to prioritize children’s learning. PBS is just one branch under the umbrella of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB), which also includes National Public Radio (NPR) and accounts for hundreds of national and local television shows and radio stations. This information war disenfranchises everyday people from learning and knowledge. Still, it will especially affect the next generation of children, like my son, who, unlike me (and the last six decades of viewers), won’t have the experience of running home from school to turn on the television and learn about thesaurus and jazz music while watching Arthur at 4 pm.
I moved to the United States with my parents from Mexico when I was three. And up until I started school, I did not speak English. Because we didn't have enough money for cable, I would watch the free channels on public television with my younger brother. We loved all the PBS programming and spent a great deal of time watching Julia Child’s and Jacques Pepin’s cooking shows, although we weren’t allowed to use the stove. Yet what I was permitted to do was read sensitive legal and medical documents for my parents, including any school mail.
I later learned that I wasn’t alone in doing this. First-generation immigrant children often have the added responsibility of being their parents' translators or what is known as language brokers in everyday life, but also in particularly high-stakes scenarios like delicate medical appointments, meetings with lawyers, and translating in their parents’ place of employment what the managers, bosses, and supervisors say. This can lead to a variety of outcomes like increased dependence on children, early adultification, and, in some cases, poor mental health outcomes. However, some argue that it also helps children learn responsibility, among other benefits.
Educational television helps children develop the language skills and vocabulary needed in life. For example, language instruction offered via Big Bird and Elmo helps children learn to read, count, and even identify their emotions. As such, during difficult times of war, global pandemics, and migration crises, when children’s learning is negatively impacted, Sesame Street becomes even more important, extending its reach across the globe. Through the leadership of the International Rescue Commission (IRC), Sesame Street has reached children in conflict zones who would otherwise go without educational instruction. Moreover, in an immigrant household, television, and in particular cartoons, play an important role. Not only is television the first introduction to quintessential American culture, but it also can be how children maintain their innocence and wonder through shows like those being defunded on PBS.
These changes and cancellations are happening faster than we think. In September, PBS fired 100 staff members due to this defunding. This month, Sesame Street was “rescued” when its 56th season premiered on Netflix, making the show available only to paid subscribers after half a century of free public access.
To be sure, some may say that those who want to watch Sesame Street should just get a Netflix account, perhaps arguing that “people prioritize it over food anyway.” Yet in an economic climate where groceries are becoming even more unaffordable, many families may have to choose between milk and a monthly Netflix subscription. Inevitably, this harms children. Moreover, in a society that says it values its young, it is troubling that the social, developmental, and educational support needed to raise children is being defunded through a systematic erosion of everyday American educational figures like Barney, Mr. Rogers, and Ms. Frizzle.
The battle over PBS may be lost, but “viewers like you,” you are still needed in opposing the complete erosion of children’s education.
Silvia Rodriguez Vega is an Assistant Professor at the University of California, Santa Barbara, a Public Voices Fellow with the Op-ed Project, and author of Drawing Deportation: Art and Resistance Among Immigrant Children.
Keep ReadingShow less
child reads book
Photo provided
When Letters “Pretend:” Why Early Literacy Instruction Must Include All Our Children
Nov 29, 2025
“¡Cebra!” (“Zebra!”) Manuel shouted, eyes sparkling as he pointed to the smartboard. “La ‘c’ está pretendiendo ser una ‘s’!” (“The ‘c’ is pretending to be an ‘s’!”)
A few days earlier, our kindergarten class had learned that in Spanish “ce” and “ci” sound like /s/, while “ca,” “co,” and “cu” sound like /k/. We joked that sometimes the letter “c” likes to “pretend” to be an “s.” In the middle of reading, Manuel excitedly spotted the pattern on his own.
To anyone else, it might have looked like a small, ordinary classroom moment. But to me, it was huge—a 5 year old transferring what he’d learned in Spanish phonics instruction into reading in real time. He wasn’t just memorizing a rule; he was understanding, applying, and showing automaticity in decoding, and feeling proud about it.
Manuel’s path to this breakthrough moment wasn’t straightforward. He spent two years in an English-only preschool before joining our dual language kindergarten program. For the first time, both his languages—English and Spanish—were welcomed in the classroom as partners in learning. We built his reading skills through strategies like translanguaging, dictados, and cross-linguistic connections.
And that’s the thing about moments like this: they don’t happen by accident. They happen when literacy instruction is intentional, inclusive, and built with bilingual learners in mind.
Unfortunately, that’s not always the case. Across Massachusetts and the nation, there’s an ongoing effort to reform reading instruction and ensure literacy teaching and learning is based on evidence. This is a positive step that leads to many more of our children reading on grade level. But in too many of these conversations, multilingual learners in dual education like Manuel, who are maintaining their native language while learning a second language, aren’t mentioned. This omission becomes especially evident when we look at the recent 2025 Massachusetts Comprehensive Assessment System scores, which still haven’t rebounded from the pandemic.
As Massachusetts’ population of dual language learners rises, so does the responsibility to make sure they have the same access to high-quality, evidence-based literacy instruction as their peers. Without that, we risk leaving students with extraordinary potential—students like Manuel—behind. Studies have found that kids who speak more than one language often have stronger phonological awareness, richer vocabularies, and better reading comprehension than their monolingual peers. Classroom practice must catch up so Manuel and others like him are able to capitalize on their strengths in one language to boost reading in another.
To start, Massachusetts must continue growing the bilingual teacher workforce through initiatives like Project SEMBRAR—a five-year “Grow-Your-Own” initiative in New England and New Mexico. By recruiting, training, and mentoring bilingual teachers and creating clear career pathways, programs like this help ensure that students have educators who understand their linguistic and cultural strengths. I am excited to be part of this wonderful project as a mentor, sharing what I have learned over my eight years in dual language education. My goal is to ensure that my mentees, who are aspiring bilingual educators, not only understand but also apply key strategies such as el puente (the bridge) and translanguaging to foster biliteracy development in dual language settings.
Investing in bilingual literacy coaches who model strategies for multilingual learners also is essential, enabling teachers to bridge Spanish and English and turn gaps that students like Manuel might have into growth. For example, these coaches can guide dual language teachers so they fully understand that phonics works differently in each language. Spanish is straightforward, with predictable letter–sound patterns, so instruction should focus on vowels, syllables, and consonant-vowel-consonant words. English is complex, with irregular spellings and many sound variations, requiring deeper orthographic teaching.
Finally, dual language education reading goals must align with district literacy priorities, centering evidence-based practices, equity, and culturally responsive teaching to boost both academic and social-emotional growth. As a dual-language educator, I value students’ home languages and cultures by using materials that reflect their identities and celebrating when they read in both languages. In Manuel’s case, his parents support him in English and Spanish at home, reinforcing his bilingual development. This approach strengthens literacy, social-emotional growth, and student ownership of learning.
Manuel’s moment with the word “cebra” wasn’t just about phonics. It was about identity. It was about a child realizing he could read in both of his languages, fueling engagement, persistence, and a lifelong belief in his own abilities. Our dual-language students deserve these reading tools and support so that they dream and thrive.
When Letters “Pretend:” Why Early Literacy Instruction Must Include All Our Children was first published on Massachusetts Latino News and republished with permission.
Maria Zak is a kindergarten Spanish lead teacher at A.J. Gomes Elementary School in New Bedford, Massachusetts, and Teach Plus Massachusetts Policy Fellowship alumna.
Keep ReadingShow less
Bad Bunny accepts the Best Urban Song award for "LA MuDANZA" onstage during the 26th Annual Latin Grammy Awards at the MGM Grand Garden Arena on November 13, 2025 in Las Vegas, Nevada.
(Photo by John Parra/Getty Images for The Latin Recording Academy)
What Bad Bunny Can Teach Us About Leadership, Belonging, and the Power of Place
Nov 29, 2025
Bad Bunny is everywhere, from Spotify’s top charts to sold-out stadiums that pulse like heartbeats. The pride that emanates from la isla de Puerto Rico, with its native son is palpable. The ownership every Puerto Rican, from the island to the diaspora, feels at this moment —over their culture, their identity —is hard to understate.
This sense of belonging and pride is something I explore in my new book, Sentido: Finding Sense and Purpose in Design Leadership. Part memoir, part guide, it reflects on what it means to be Puerto Rican, Nuyorican, and multiethnic — and how that layered identity shapes the way I understand connection, purpose, and presence.
But pride alone doesn’t tell the whole story. What often gets lost in translation for those unfamiliar with Puerto Rico’s history is that the island Bad Bunny represents still grapples with colonial neglect, gentrification, and economic erasure. Much of his music speaks to this, amplifies it, and refuses to let it be ignored. Debí Tirar Más Fotos (“I Should Have Taken More Photos”) is a love letter to the Puerto Rico that was and the Puerto Rico that must remain, just as No Me Quiero Ir de Aquí (“I Don’t Want to Leave Here”) holds the ache of wanting to stay home even when home is under threat.
This is the paradox of visibility and invisibility, of existing within systems designed to erase you.
Puerto Rico’s story is one of complexity and contradiction, a place that holds both joy and grief in equal measure. Like many Spanish words that resist direct translation, uniquely Puerto Rican phrases like La Brega capture that tension perfectly. “The struggle” can be one of joy or of pain; often, it is both.
In Sentido, I write about El Yunque, Puerto Rico’s rainforest, as a living system that resists extraction by regenerating from within. After Hurricane María and near-total devastation, the forest reorganized itself. Roots deepened, and new growth emerged from fallen trunks — nature’s way of remembering. Bad Bunny’s work mirrors that instinct. He turns the spectacle inward, redirecting attention from global fame to local truth. Like El Yunque and the people of Puerto Rico, his art reminds us that the power is in the people. Community and culture endure. Regeneration itself becomes a form of resistance.
Once known as Borikén, home to the Taíno people, the island was claimed by Spain in 1493 and later traded to the United States after the Spanish–American War. Citizenship came in 1917, but not sovereignty.
Puerto Ricans could be drafted to fight wars abroad yet could not vote for the leaders who sent them. The Jones Act still dictates how and from where goods arrive, and how much they cost. The island became a “Commonwealth” in name only: its economy remade to serve others, its flag once outlawed, its people asked to adapt rather than belong.
Colonialism didn’t end; it changed form. Policies like Acts 20 and 22 invite outsiders to profit while locals are priced out of their own neighborhoods. Austerity boards overrule elected officials. After Hurricane María, aid arrived slowly, revealing what power looks like when it decides who is worth saving. And yet, Puerto Rico persists, creating, gathering, remembering. That duality of presence within erasure continues to define it.
In Bad Bunny’s music video for El Apagón (“The Blackout”), there’s a deliberate bait and switch. What begins as a celebration, a pulsing anthem of pride and presence, transforms into a documentary, a love letter, and a warning. It isn’t just about power outages; it’s about power itself, who holds it, who profits from it, and who is left in the dark.
Leadership, as it shows up through Bad Bunny, isn’t hierarchy. It is a shift from power over to the power of projection, a reorientation toward compassion and interdependence. Sharing, not hoarding, resources and thriving. Thriving despite circumstance. His artistry is not extractive but regenerative. It centers community, redistributes power, and creates space for others to grow. Like El Yunque, he reminds us that endurance is not about standing tall, but staying rooted, grounded.
Just as he hosted a three-month residency in San Juan (with the first 30 shows reserved solely for Puerto Rican residents) to infuse the local economy, on the last night, the eighth anniversary of Hurricane Maria, he hosted “una mas,” the finale event that marked the start of a multi-year partnership between Bad Bunny and Amazon aimed at supporting Puerto Rico through initiatives in education, economic development via a “comPRa Local” storefront, and agriculture.
Y ahora. As we prepare to hear him take the Super Bowl stage — and perhaps learn a little more Spanish in the process — Puerto Ricans are once again navigating duality: the pride of global recognition alongside the reality of living in an America that still questions our belonging. The forced removal of our language, the fear of racial profiling, the erasure that persists, all while one of our own stands in full Boricua glory before the world.
To see Benito on the world’s largest stage, performing entirely in Spanish, is a declaration that we don’t have to translate ourselves to be understood. His presence is not assimilation but assertion, a reminder that Puerto Rican identity is not conditional or dependent on mainland recognition. It isn’t something to be performed for approval; it’s lived, embodied, and enduring. In that moment, with the island reflected on the global stage, Benito reminds us that visibility without purpose is vanity, and visibility with integrity is power. For Puerto Rico, that power is not new. It has always been there, steady and alive, pulsing quietly beneath the noise, waiting.
What Bad Bunny Can Teach Us About Leadership, Belonging, and the Power of Place was first published on the Latino News Network and republished with permission.
Alison Rand is a strategic design expert, consultant, thought leader, and writer with a passion for promoting more inclusive operational systems. A born-and-raised New Yorker, Alison’s worldview was shaped from an early age by her multi-ethnic upbringing and exposure to diverse backgrounds and ideas.
This October saw the debut of Alison’s first book, Sentido: Finding Sense and Purpose in Design Leadership, which serves as both a memoir and a professional guidebook.
Keep ReadingShow less
Load More