I expected to feel worse about Gina Hinojosa becoming governor of Texas.
I’ve been critical of her education policy positions, and I expect I’ll continue to be. Yet seeing her take the stage during her victory speech, I found myself feeling genuine happiness and pride when she began with these words:
I am a daughter of the Rio Grande Valley, where the people embody the work ethic and values of our state, where no one would have imagined that one day, a little girl from the RGV would stand before you here, as the next governor of the greatest state, Texas.
In her, I saw the faces and heard the voices of my former students in San Benito, just up the road from Hinojosa’s hometown of Brownsville. It was there, 30 years ago, that I got my start in education, teaching at Sullivan and Rangerville Elementary Schools.
The rest of her speech, however, was a reminder that pride in what her election represents and agreement with what she proposes to do are very different things.
One of the greatest losses for the children of Texas, and for education reform writ large, would be Hinojosa’s promise to oust education commissioner Mike Morath. During his decade at the helm, Morath profoundly reshaped Texas education, earning a reputation as one of the best education chiefs in the country. A data-driven leader, he helped launch a nationally recognized program that rewards teachers for improving student outcomes. Morath strengthened the state’s A–F system and made high-quality instructional materials central to his reform efforts. Perhaps most importantly, he took accountability seriously, a commitment most evident in his decision to appoint Mike Miles to lead the turnaround of Houston ISD, a move that has yielded strikingly positive results. The number of D- and F-rated campuses fell from 120 in 2023 to 13 in 2026, while the number of A- and B-rated schools skyrocketed from 93 to 205. Whoever replaces Morath—Hinojosa has promised to appoint an educator—will have enormous shoes to fill.
Hinojosa has also pledged to end the state’s school takeovers, a promise that has already started to create uncertainty across the eight Texas districts currently under state intervention. Austin ISD, which crossed the takeover threshold this year and where the governor-elect once served as a trustee, may get a reprieve. But replacing Morath will not eliminate the laws governing state takeovers. Nor will it offer a different answer to the question of what should happen when local governance fails, year after year, and children, especially those in underserved communities like the Rio Grande Valley, are left in chronically low-performing schools. Hinojosa also wants to end the state’s standardized exam and “tests like it,” while pausing the A–F accountability system she calls “rigged” and says serves corporate interests. There are legitimate debates to be had about how often students should be tested, how long those tests should be, and whether the results provide teachers with useful information. But the moment calls for better assessment, not less accountability.
Choice advocates are particularly concerned about Hinojosa’s opposition to Texas’s nascent education savings account program, which she has called a “voucher scam.” The program now faces an uncertain future as Democrats have reclaimed the Texas House, and some Republicans who previously backed ESAs have signaled reservations. The Democratic vice chair of the House Education Committee says that repealing it is on the table, despite the roughly 100,000 students already enrolled: “I guarantee that program is not going to be untouched, and it will be probably unrecognizable, if not extinct, by the time we’re done with it.” Those are fighting words. But school choice and strong public schools shouldn’t be mutually exclusive. Families deserve both high-quality neighborhood schools and the flexibility to find a better fit for their daughters and sons if those schools fail to deliver.
When I was teaching in San Benito in the late ‘90s, families that couldn’t afford private options had little alternative but to stay at their assigned public school. In the predominantly Mexican and Mexican American town where I taught, parents deeply respected teachers and looked to schools as trusted institutions. Public schools were more than places where children went to learn. They were among the most important civic anchors in people’s lives. I understood that attachment. But I also came to understand why families whose children weren’t thriving might want the chance to choose a different school.
Life in the Valley was also marked by hard economic realities. Poverty there is double the statewide rate. Child poverty is even higher. I remember visiting the colonias where my students lived, places where many families lacked electricity and running water. One student told me about a sea of tarantulas washing into his bedroom following a major rainstorm. My colleagues told me how the rest of the state looked down on the Valley, a dynamic rooted in geographic isolation, socioeconomic differences, and stereotypes. Hinojosa has talked about regularly crossing the bridge into Matamoros and seeing children selling chicles on the street, something I encountered, too, whenever I crossed the border.
But the Valley was never defined by those hardships. What I remember most is the immense regional pride and rich heritage, rooted in shared values and community. In the classroom, I was greeted every day by beaming smiles and kids being kids. “Sir, I saw you at the H.E.B. this weekend. You were wearing shorts…” I also spent time at the local community center, where one festival featured a Japanese conjunto band. At the district office, I was taught how to properly eat tamales (“Don’t eat the husks, Mr. Chu!”) by an affable and energetic assistant superintendent named Paul Cruz, who would later—with Hinojosa’s support—become superintendent in Austin.
Elections have consequences, and Hinojosa’s triumph is a remarkable achievement for a girl from the Valley. In many ways, she represents what I hoped was possible for Liana, Rocío, Valentina, and the other girls in my class. They’re now in their late 30s, probably with children of their own. They and their children also deserve the opportunity to realize their ambitions, supported by the best available evidence and strong leaders willing to hold schools accountable for academic excellence.
