{"id":211857,"date":"2026-03-19T19:55:18","date_gmt":"2026-03-19T19:55:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-tx\/211857\/"},"modified":"2026-03-19T19:55:18","modified_gmt":"2026-03-19T19:55:18","slug":"republicans-are-remaking-texas-public-universities-some-professors-are-leaving","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-tx\/211857\/","title":{"rendered":"Republicans are remaking Texas\u2019 public universities. Some professors are leaving"},"content":{"rendered":"

Wendy Watson loved the students at the University of North Texas<\/a>: bright, diverse and often the first in their family to go to college. The job, which included teaching political science and advising students, was demanding, but rewarding. Each year, Watson convinced hundreds of students they had what it took to be lawyers. <\/p>\n

Watson, 56, came to UNT in 2005, and put down roots. Bought a house. Adored the neighbors.<\/p>\n

Then, in 2023, Texas leaders started cracking down on diversity, equity and inclusion<\/a> programs at public colleges. They deemed the institutions as overtaken by liberal bias. They accused professors of indoctrinating students. They proposed extending the DEI ban<\/a> into classroom instruction. <\/p>\n

Watson, who uses they\/them pronouns, watched it unfold with growing worry: the shuttering of the gender and sexuality employee group<\/a> Watson was part of, the removal of \u201crace\u201d and \u201cequity\u201d from dozens of course titles<\/a>, even though no law required it. <\/p>\n

The Education Lab<\/p>\n

Receive our in-depth coverage of education issues and stories that affect North Texans.<\/p>\n

By signing up, you agree to our\u00a0Terms of Service<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Privacy Policy.<\/a><\/p>\n

Related<\/p>\n

\"Course<\/p>\n

It left Watson convinced school leaders would not stand by students and faculty if state laws restricted what could be taught in classrooms. They half-expected to see an email appear in their inbox saying their \u201cGay Rights in the Constitution\u201d class had been axed.<\/p>\n

Watson didn\u2019t wait around to find out.<\/p>\n

For some Texas professors, the overhaul of higher education<\/a>, spearheaded by conservative state leaders, has taken an emotional toll. Some professors are making drastic career choices, leaving the profession or, like Watson, fleeing the state, and heading for roles where they say they no longer live in a climate of fear. <\/p>\n

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\"The<\/p>\n

After 2023, the workload suddenly felt unbearable. Watson constantly looked over their shoulder. They couldn\u2019t keep food down, nibbling on protein bars for months, and underwent gallbladder surgery. Before they walked into the classroom, they prayed that a turn of phrase or thorny discussion wouldn\u2019t cost them their job. <\/p>\n

\u201cIt felt like we were going to have to sanitize to the point of lying,\u201d Watson said. \u201cIt would be a sin of omission.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Dr.<\/p>\n

Dr. Wendy Watson, a professor at Ball State University, teaches in North Quad on Friday, March 13, 2026 in Muncie, Ind. Kaiti Sullivan for Dallas News<\/p>\n

Kaiti Sullivan<\/p>\n

An internal struggle followed. If Watson left Texas, it might seem like a white flag. If Watson stayed, the stress could kill them. <\/p>\n

Watson ultimately decided to take the first teaching job that got them out of the state.<\/p>\n

A spokesperson from the University of North Texas did not respond to multiple requests for an interview about faculty retention and recruitment. <\/p>\n

\u2018Unnecessary chaos\u2019<\/p>\n

For years, Texas\u2019 public universities have been hotspots for the state\u2019s larger culture wars, from debates over DEI programs to free expression<\/a>. Now, under increasing pressure from state leaders to address a perceived liberal bias in the classroom, campuses are ensnared in battles over the very purpose of higher education. <\/p>\n

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\"Michael<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a battle for the heart and soul of universities and colleges: an open learning environment,\u201d said Brian Evans, president of the Texas Conference of the American Association for University Professors. <\/p>\n

The fight, often between academics and Republican leaders, isn\u2019t just impacting what can be taught in classrooms<\/a>, but who remains to teach it. <\/p>\n

For some, these professors\u2019 career-changing decisions warn of a brain drain \u2014 a mass exodus of Texas\u2019 most intellectually capable. The result could be years of tumultuous recruitment and retention of educators and researchers. Democrats and professors have warned that an exodus of the best and brightest faculty would weaken the caliber of education offered at state universities, threaten Texas\u2019 cutting-edge research<\/a> and undercut students\u2019 workforce readiness. <\/p>\n

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\"Masoud<\/p>\n

\u201cIt impacts everything,\u201d Evans said. \u201cIt\u2019s our welders, our nurses, our social workers, our lawyers. It\u2019s affecting all the skills that students learn to get ready to be successful in the workplace and be engaged citizens in our society.\u201d<\/p>\n

Public data on how many Texas professors have left or are eyeing exits is sparse, making it difficult to determine the extent of departures. <\/p>\n

\u201cI still believe there are people who are going to want to come to some of the premier institutions that we have here. I don\u2019t believe it\u2019s going to just fail,\u201d said state Rep. Donna Howard, D-Austin, vice chair of the Committee on Higher Education. \u201cBut it means we\u2019re going to have some struggles and some years of uncertainty that don\u2019t need to be there. It\u2019s unnecessary chaos.\u201d <\/p>\n

\"Dr.<\/p>\n

Dr. Wendy Watson, a professor at Ball State University, teaches in North Quad on Friday, March 13, 2026 in Muncie, Ind. Kaiti Sullivan for Dallas News<\/p>\n

Kaiti Sullivan<\/p>\n

Supporters of higher education reform have pushed back on such predictions, arguing that addressing ideological biases and aligning universities with workforce needs will attract more professors, students and jobs to Texas<\/a>. <\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re just not seeing [a brain drain],\u201d said state Rep. Matt Shaheen, R-Prosper, and a member of the Committee on Higher Education. \u201cThe state of Texas is very purposeful and very serious on developing our next workforce and providing opportunities for our students. I think that is highly attractive to individuals that are in education, because they want to invest in students and do what\u2019s best for them.\u201d <\/p>\n

Texas Tech University System Chancellor Brandon Creighton said the system is seeing record-high faculty interest amid \u201cthe momentum\u201d in Texas. Creighton is a former senator and the architect of recent conservative laws reshaping higher education. <\/p>\n

\u201cAcross the Texas Tech University System, we\u2019re seeing the opposite trend,\u201d Creighton said in a statement. \u201cWe\u2019re experiencing record applications and growing interest from top-tier faculty nationwide who are choosing Texas because of our world-class institutions, commitment to merit and focus on impact.\u201d <\/p>\n

He added that national search firms are bringing \u201cexceptional candidates\u201d who recognize that \u201cinnovation is supported, excellence is rewarded and faculty can do their best work for students and the future\u201d at Texas\u2019 universities. <\/p>\n

Gov. Greg Abbott has prioritized increased oversight of taxpayer-funded universities, saying it is necessary to hold professors who push \u201cwoke agendas\u201d accountable. <\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cTexans are going to college to look for a profession and to become skilled and to be able to get a job. … We don\u2019t believe that universities are places where students learn to identify ideologically or categorize themselves by their political identity,\u201d said Sherry Sylvester, a distinguished senior fellow at the Texas Public Policy Foundation, a conservative think tank. \u201cSo there\u2019s a shift in the culture. We\u2019re just beginning to see it. The faculty see it, and some are not happy.\u201d <\/p>\n

A 2025 AAUP survey of southern faculty<\/a>, including around 1,100 Texas professors, found that about a quarter of Texas respondents said they have applied for out-of-state higher education jobs in the last two years. More than a quarter said they intend on searching for such positions soon. <\/p>\n

Faculty cited the state\u2019s broad political climate as the top reason they wanted to leave for another job. Many Texas professors who said they had applied for an out-of-state job cited the political climate, academic freedom, shared governance and DEI issues. <\/p>\n

A majority of Texas respondents, around 60%, said they wouldn\u2019t encourage graduate students or faculty colleagues to seek a job here. <\/p>\n

Sylvester pushed back on the idea there is a \u201cmass exodus\u201d of faculty from Texas campuses. <\/p>\n

\u201cI have no doubt that professors have many conversations saying, \u2018I\u2019m going to leave and I wouldn\u2019t invite anyone to come to Texas,\u2019\u201d Sylvester said. \u201c\u2026 But the fact is teaching jobs are coveted positions, and Texas has some of the biggest and most well-resourced universities in the country.\u201d<\/p>\n

Howard said her office is planning to propose lawmakers study the impact of recent state laws on faculty and student retention and recruitment ahead of the 2027 legislative session. <\/p>\n

\u2018I only had so much energy\u2019<\/p>\n

In fall 2025, Watson moved to Muncie, Indiana, to teach criminal law at Ball State University. <\/p>\n

\u201cI bailed. I felt awful leaving my students, but I only had so much energy. I couldn\u2019t fight on all those fronts,\u201d Watson said. \u201cI just couldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

The days are less stressful now. The crushing anticipation of suddenly losing their job has mostly dissipated, even as Indiana\u2019s public universities face similar restrictions from state leaders as Texas\u2019 schools. <\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cI feel like I got out of the front lines of battle,\u201d Watson said. \u201cAnd now I\u2019m in a place where the issues are still happening but they feel a little less dire.\u201d <\/p>\n

\"Dr.<\/p>\n

Dr. Wendy Watson, a professor at Ball State University, teaches in North Quad on Friday, March 13, 2026 in Muncie, Ind. Kaiti Sullivan for Dallas News<\/p>\n

Kaiti Sullivan<\/p>\n

Watson tells nervous colleagues, \u201cI know it feels bad, but it\u2019s worse in Texas.\u201d<\/p>\n

Still, leaving meant giving things up. They get misty-eyed talking about their former students. A political scientist by training, Watson sometimes feels out of place in Ball State\u2019s criminal justice department. <\/p>\n

The move also meant taking a $20,000 pay cut. It was the price to pay for some peace of mind, Watson figured, making it the right choice. <\/p>\n

\u2018When will it end?\u2019<\/p>\n

For others, such as Kathleen Kearney, the increased political pressure has brought about an early end to their academic careers. <\/p>\n

Before she resigned in September, Kearney, 47, taught nursing ethics and jurisprudence at the Texas Tech University Health Sciences Center\u2019s School of Nursing for more than 16 years. <\/p>\n

Kearney began her career as a pediatric nurse, where she was troubled by the inequities she saw \u2014 how uninsured children often received worse care, how babies born intersex underwent controversial surgical procedures. So she enrolled in law school in 2002, and then graduate school to teach nurses. In 2009, she was hired by TTUHSC\u2019s school of nursing. <\/p>\n

It was her dream job. She worked 30 hours a week, teaching remotely from Dallas, and kept her law practice. <\/p>\n

She taught her students that they didn\u2019t just advocate for individual patients, but for communities. Raised Catholic, she believed that faith without good deeds wasn\u2019t enough. That belief, she suspected, was why she became a nurse in the first place. <\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re trying to do what\u2019s best for the world,\u201d she\u2019d tell her students. Kearney expected to spread that message until the day she retired. <\/p>\n

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\"Texas<\/p>\n

But as lawmakers fanned the flames of anti-DEI sentiment at Texas\u2019 public universities, Kearney grew upset. In early September, nursing professors were told their courses would soon be reviewed for compliance<\/a> with state law, according to Kearney. She worried she would have to stop talking about topics like gender identity or health equity. If she was required to do so, it would betray her values. <\/p>\n

Then conservative activist Charlie Kirk was fatally shot at a university<\/a> in Utah, and Texas officials called for removing students and teachers<\/a> who criticized Kirk or cheered his death. <\/p>\n

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\"Attendees<\/p>\n

Texas Tech made headlines after a student was arrested and expelled<\/a> after mocking Kirk at an on-campus vigil. University leaders condemned the behavior and stood by the arrest and expulsion. Critics and free speech advocates raised concerns <\/a>that the punishment violated free speech protections. <\/p>\n

\u201cDuring sensitive times, it is especially important to remember our higher calling,\u201d then-Chancellor Tedd Mitchell wrote in a September message to the system. \u201cWe must be mindful of our words and actions, considerate of one another, and respectful of our colleagues, friends and classmates.\u201d<\/p>\n

The dean of the school of nursing similarly sent professors an email that said while \u201cwe deeply respect the personal beliefs and values of each individual,\u201d educators at a public institution must remain \u201ccompliant with state and federal law.\u201d <\/p>\n

\"Kathleen<\/p>\n

Kathleen Kearney is a nursing law\/ethics professor who recently resigned from the Texas Tech University Health Sciences Center. She is photographed at the TTUHSC Dallas campus, January 12, 2026.<\/p>\n

Tom Fox \/ Staff Photographer<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen will it end?\u201d thought Kearney, who increasingly felt that university officials were trying to control what she could say, both in the classroom and in her personal life. <\/p>\n

She was sure she wouldn\u2019t make it to the end of the year without being fired. She wanted to go out on her own terms. <\/p>\n

So on a Friday afternoon in September, she sent her resignation email to the dean of the school of nursing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hereby resign as Associate Professor effective December 31, 2025,\u201d she wrote. \u201cI believe in the Constitution of the United States of America and all amendments.\u201d<\/p>\n

These days, Kearney focuses solely on her law practice. She is haunted by the fact that, sometimes, it feels as though Abbott and conservative lawmakers won. Another progressive professor pushed out, she thinks, to be replaced with a right-wing educator. <\/p>\n

She wonders how Texas moved so far right, how to get it back to a place where it seemed like leaders cared for its residents. <\/p>\n

\u201cI never considered myself some far-left-winged person,\u201d she said. \u201cI just try to do good, and we try to teach good, and we\u2019re trying to educate nurses to be competent and safe practitioners \u2014 caring for others. It seems that something\u2019s wrong about that.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u2018Walking on landmines\u2019<\/p>\n

Charles Chear, 42, believed his move to North Texas from New Jersey would be the start of a new chapter. <\/p>\n

It was July 2025, and he and his wife were expecting their first child by the end of the year. The region seemed like a good place to raise a kid: diverse communities, affordable neighborhoods and warm weather. Chear moved to start as a clinical associate professor of social work at UNT. His wife planned to follow. <\/p>\n

Within weeks, however, Chear was on edge. <\/p>\n

He watched professors at Texas State University<\/a> and Texas A&M University lose their jobs<\/a> over viral videos that showed them discussing gender identity and socialism. A fellow professor was thrust into the spotlight after the attorney general <\/a>asked UNT to investigate after a student was allegedly kicked out of class for denouncing Charlie Kirk\u2019s killing. University leaders, including at UNT, called for sweeping audits of their course catalogs<\/a>, some with an eye toward how gender identity is taught. <\/p>\n

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Chear wondered how he was supposed to teach social work, a field that is committed to advocating for vulnerable communities, and avoid talking about racism or gender identity. <\/p>\n

\u201cIt was like walking on landmines,\u201d he said. \u201cI felt like I could lose my job anytime. That was really tough, especially expecting to have a family.\u201d <\/p>\n

\"Charles<\/p>\n

Charles Chear poses for a portrait in front of Person Hall at the University of North Carolina campus in Chapel Hill, NC on February 19, 2026.<\/p>\n

Andrea Ellen Reed \/ Andrea Ellen Reed for The Dallas Morning News<\/p>\n

Chear\u2019s social work practice class, which had a community service component, presented another dilemma. His students were required to volunteer in K-12 schools and provide targeted support and mentorship to at-risk students. But a sweeping new state law, SB 12, that banned diversity, equity and inclusion activity<\/a> in K-12 schools, such as referencing LGBTQ identities in conversations, had just kicked in. <\/p>\n

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\"AUSTIN,<\/p>\n

Suddenly, Chear was fielding questions from his students about whether they could get in trouble if a K-12 student wanted to discuss their sexual orientation or use their preferred name and pronouns. <\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to get kicked out of school,\u201d his students told him. \u201cI don\u2019t want to be on the news.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just as new to me as it is to you,\u201d Chear responded, trying to turn the law\u2019s vague language into a teachable moment. <\/p>\n

But in exasperated conversations with administrators and colleagues, he asked, \u201cWhat is it that I can and cannot say?\u201d No one had an answer. The National Association of Social Workers had not yet released guidance on navigating the new law<\/a>. Chear felt as though students \u2014 and faculty \u2014 were being set up to fail. <\/p>\n

A UNT spokesperson did not respond to a request for comment about how the university provides guidance to faculty regarding compliance with state laws. <\/p>\n

By October, four months after arriving in Texas, Chear was applying to jobs out of state.<\/p>\n

Republican leaders \u201ctalk about how a lot of this was really to improve civic discourse and to end discrimination against conservatives,\u201d Chear said. \u201cBut I felt they were just doing what they were accusing the other side of: excesses in terms of censorship.\u201d <\/p>\n

Lawmakers\u2019 tightening grip on Texas\u2019 schools were not the only reason for his departure. Chear, who is Muslim, was also growing fearful as state officials and Republican leaders intensified their anti-Muslim rhetoric.<\/a><\/p>\n

On a Friday in October, Chear knelt on a mat tucked under a tree, praying with a dozen other Muslim UNT community members. A man with a bullhorn began circling the group, yelling a version of the Lord\u2019s Prayer as he held out his phone to film the worshippers. <\/p>\n

\u201cLead us not into temptation, but deliver us from Islam,\u201d the man can be heard saying on a video recording<\/a>, replacing \u201cevil\u201d with \u201cIslam\u201d in the prayer. <\/p>\n

\u201cI felt really vulnerable in so many ways,\u201d Chear said. \u201cHe didn\u2019t touch us. But he was really pushing it. He was inches away from people\u2019s faces.\u201d <\/p>\n

A life in Texas, he realized, would mean the threat of harassment, nevermind the threat of losing his job, creeping constantly behind him. He liked UNT\u2019s students, the campus and his colleagues. He even liked the dining hall\u2019s food. But the reasons to leave \u2014 and to raise a child elsewhere \u2014 kept mounting. <\/p>\n

\u201cI left with a lot of reluctance,\u201d he said. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t an easy choice.\u201d <\/p>\n

He now holds a similar position at the school of social work at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. His son, Shuayb, was born in December. His wife never made it to Texas. <\/p>\n

With his baby boy crying in his arms, he thought about what would have to change to bring him back to Texas. Maybe, he said, a real initiative for civil discourse in higher education. <\/p>\n

\u201cI want it to be genuine, and I don\u2019t think it is now,\u201d he said. \u201cLess violent rhetoric. Less threats. Turn that down and I think we could make a path forward.\u201d <\/p>\n

The DMN Education Lab deepens the coverage and conversation about urgent education issues critical to the future of North Texas.<\/p>\n

The DMN Education Lab is a community-funded journalism initiative, with support from Bobby and Lottye Lyle, Communities Foundation of Texas, The Dallas Foundation, Dallas Regional Chamber, Deedie Rose, Garrett and Cecilia Boone, Judy and Jim Gibbs, The Meadows Foundation, The Murrell Foundation, Ron and Phyllis Steinhart, Solutions Journalism Network, Southern Methodist University, Sydney Smith Hicks, and the University of Texas at Dallas. The Dallas Morning News retains full editorial control of the Education Lab\u2019s journalism.<\/p>\n