Leading with Conscience: Dr. George I. Sánchez, Dean Charles R. Martinez, Jr., and the Wisdom of Praxis, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

Leading with Conscience: Dr. George I. Sánchez, Dean Charles R. Martinez, Jr., and the Wisdom of Praxis

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

Professor, Department of Educational Leadership and Policy

The University of Texas at Austin

October 9, 2025

It is a deep honor to pay tribute to the civil-rights legacy of Dr. George I. Sánchez—an intellectual, a trailblazer, and a visionary educator whose influence continues to reverberate across generations. The building where I work at the University of Texas at Austin bears his name, as does a local elementary school with its own civil-rights history—one that now faces possible closure under the rhetoric of “consolidation” and “re-sets.” However phrased, such moves threaten the educational lifeworlds of emergent bilingual children and, in doing so, wound Dr. Sánchez’s legacy. The community, true to his spirit, is resisting.

When we invoke Dr. Sánchez’s name, we are not simply recalling a historical figure. We are evoking a living tradition—one rooted in justice, scholarship, and an unwavering faith in the transformative power of education. As Carlos Blanton (2015) reminds us in his seminal work George I. Sánchez: The Long Fight for Mexican American Integration, Dr. Sánchez’s life exemplified the scholar-activist’s role in bridging research and advocacy, intellect and moral purpose. His work calls us to examine not only what we teach, but why we teach, for whom, and to what end.

For our students in the College of Education, three interwoven principles emerge from his legacy: critical consciousness, moral courage, and what Antonia Darder (2018)—drawing from Paulo Freire’s (2000) Pedagogy of the Oppressed—so beautifully calls the “wisdom of praxis.” This wisdom is embodied, ethical, culturally situated, and context-sensitive. It animates the work of transformative educators committed to teaching as a moral and liberatory practice.

Dr. Sánchez understood, as Freire later articulated, that education is never neutral. His research on testing and segregation in the 1930s and 1940s—especially his exposure of so-called “intelligence tests” as culturally biased—revealed how inequity hides beneath the language of meritocracy. Curriculum and assessment, he showed, mirror what society chooses to value—and whom it chooses to value.

For today’s students—future teachers, administrators, and researchers—this carries an urgent message: knowledge must not merely be absorbed; it must be interrogated. We must ask: Whose knowledge counts? Whose history is told? Whose future is imagined through our teaching? Critical consciousness, as Freire taught, is not awareness alone but the recognition that the world can be transformed—and that each of us is called to act as an agent of that transformation. Dr. Sánchez embodied this stance long before the term existed.

He also modeled moral courage. At a time when segregation was legal and challenging “English-only” schooling could cost one’s career, he stood firm. He used his scholarship to expose injustice and did so at great personal and professional cost. He was branded a radical, even a communist—but he understood that neutrality in the face of injustice is complicity.

Today, we inhabit a similar climate—one where honest conversations about race, gender, identity, and inequality are under attack; where diversity, equity, and inclusion are being dismantled; and where educators are urged to teach without touching the truth. Dr. Sánchez’s courage reminds us that education is not a technical profession but an act of moral and civic engagement. To teach authentically today requires bravery: the bravery to protect our students’ dignity, to nurture their full humanity, and to stand together in solidarity for the survival of public education as a cornerstone of democracy.

The third principle—what Darder calls the wisdom of praxis—lies at the heart of Freirean pedagogy: the unity of reflection and action upon the world in order to transform it. Darder expands this idea into a moral framework for educators, describing the deep discernment that arises when love, humility, and critical inquiry guide our practice.

Dr. Sánchez lived this wisdom. He used scholarship not only to critique injustice but to build bridges—between research and advocacy, between the university and community, between intellect and lived experience. For our students, the implication is profound: education must never collapse into compliance with policy or performance metrics. It must remain a site of reflection, relationality, and transformation.

Praxis demands that we learn with and from communities rather than impose solutions upon them. It calls us to enter classrooms and neighborhoods with humility, compassion, and the conviction that education must serve the cause of justice. Were he here today, I imagine Dr. Sánchez reminding our students that being an educator is not merely about pedagogy—it is about purpose. It is about thinking critically, acting courageously, and living that delicate wisdom of praxis that unites our hearts with our work.

Here at UT Austin, we have witnessed these very qualities embodied in Dean Charles R. Martinez, Jr. Throughout his leadership, Dean Martinez has modeled critical consciousness by naming inequities others overlook and by championing an education grounded in justice, inclusion, and belonging. He has shown moral courage in navigating political headwinds with integrity and composure, steadfast in his commitment to serve all learners. And he has lived the wisdom of praxis through a leadership style that is relational, reflective, and deeply humane—bridging policy and compassion, scholarship and service.

Dean Martinez’s work reminds us that Freire’s insistence on education as the practice of freedom is not an abstraction. It lives in the choices of leaders who refuse cynicism and act from hope. In many ways, he stands in the living lineage of Dr. Sánchez—a leader whose every decision reaffirms that education at its best is an act of love and conscience. His example challenges all of us—faculty, students, and community partners—to carry forward that same spirit of reflection, courage, and transformative action.

This brings us to the question: What does it mean to be a critical scholar today?

Dr. Sánchez was a public intellectual in the fullest sense—an educator whose expertise extended from classroom to courtroom, from the academy to the public square. His research and testimony informed landmark desegregation cases; his policy advocacy exposed inequalities others preferred to ignore. Yet he never divorced scholarship from ethics. For him, knowledge was not an end in itself—it was a means of liberation.

In our own time, to be a critical scholar is to connect knowledge to justice. We live amid profound contradiction: unprecedented access to information coexists with the weaponization of misinformation, the erosion of truth, and the narrowing of academic freedom. In this climate, we cannot retreat into abstraction or silence. As Freire might say, our vocation is not simply to interpret the world but to transform it—through teaching, research, and public engagement.

Dr. Sánchez refused the false divide between “academic” and “activist.” He understood, as Freire did, that the scholar’s moral task is to link reflection with action. Today, that work means producing public scholarship, mentoring students who feel isolated or fearful, testifying before legislatures, and defending the spaces where critical inquiry still breathes. It also means expanding our sense of who counts as an intellectual: community elders, parents, artists, organizers, and students all produce vital knowledge. Our role is not to dominate those conversations but to connect and amplify them.

The intellectual of today—like Dr. Sánchez and Dean Martinez—must be multilingual in the broadest sense: fluent in the languages of justice, solidarity, and hope. And we must model integrity in our work, understanding that the goal is not accolades but the cultivation of the public good. If our scholarship does not help people think more critically, act more humanely, or live more freely, we have lost sight of the moral purpose that animated Dr. Sánchez’s life.

Were Dr. Sánchez here among us, I imagine he would look upon the College of Education—this vibrant community of future teachers and scholars—and say, The work is not finished. He would remind us that democracy must be renewed with every generation, through the daily acts of teaching, mentoring, and standing up for what is right. And yes, I think he would encourage our faculty to join Texas AAUP-AFT, now 300 members strong at UT!

He would urge us to keep education tethered to humanity, compassion, and the belief that safeguarding every child’s potential is sacred work. He would ask each of us to reflect: Are we using our knowledge to open doors or to close them? Are we preparing students to comply with authority or to question it thoughtfully? Are we aligning with comfort or with conscience?

Here again, we find inspiration close to home.  Dean Charles R. Martinez, Jr. has modeled these very principles in his steady, visionary leadership. It is deeply disappointing that the university has chosen not to renew his contract (see Valenzuela, 2025). Yet in the spirit of Dr. Sánchez, Dean Martinez has shown us what it means to lead with critical consciousness, with moral courage, and with the wisdom of praxis—weaving reflection, research, and ethical action into a seamless practice of compassionate leadership.

His example reminds us that the legacy of Dr. Sánchez is not a monument to the past but a mandate for the present: to teach truthfully, to research courageously, and to live out what Darder (2018) and Freire (2000) together describe as the wisdom of praxis. It is a call to embody what Dr. Sánchez showed us so powerfully—that knowledge without justice is hollow, and that the most enduring scholarship—and the most meaningful leadership—are those that serve the dignity of all people.

References

Blanton, C. K. (2015). George I. Sánchez: The long fight for Mexican American integration. Yale University Press.

Darder, A. (2018). The student guide to Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Bloomsbury Academic.

Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed (30th anniv. ed.). Continuum. [pdf]

Tevis, M. (1976). George I. Sánchez: Pioneer in education and advocacy for Mexican Americans. Texas State Historical Association, Handbook of Texas. https://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/entries/sanchez-george-isidore

Valenzuela, A. (2025, September 16). Dean Charles Martinez and a legacy of equity, belonging, and impact. Educational Equity, Politics & Policy in Texas. https://texasedequity.blogspot.com/2025/09/dean-charles-martinez-and-legacy-of.html

"Scholarship and Civil Rights: Claiming a Progressive Voice in Texas Politics and Policy Making," by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

I had forgotten about this piece published back in 2011 in the Journal of Curriculum & Pedagogy. By the way it reads, I almost could have published it yesterday. Thanks to LULAC for this organization's support over the years. We NEED our civil rights organizations still today.

Our work and the struggle continues. 

Thanks to Dr. Eliza Epstein for sending it my way.

-Angela Valenzuela

Scholarship and Civil Rights: Claiming a Progressive Voice in Texas Politics and Policy Making Angela Valenzuela 

ANGELA VALENZUELA University of Texas at Austin 

What is to be done to counter the current conservative political climate and how do we claim a progressive curriculum and pedagogy in our practices? I write from my perspective as a researcher, scholar, and legislative and community activist. Perhaps more through artistry and experience rather than through science or technical know-how, I further combine these roles in my current position as Education Commit-tee Chair of the Texas League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC), the nation’s oldest and largest Latino civil rights organization (www.TxLULAC.org). 

Writing strictly as a scholar, it is tempting to answer this question with an analysis of larger political currents, not the least of which en-tails a serious consideration of minority and majority relations in our state and nation and their significant implications for curriculum, pedagogy, and policy development in these areas. I deploy these concepts of minority and majority not in a numerical sense but rather in the sociological sense of unequal power relations between Anglos and communities of color as reflected in uneven political representation—and thusly, civic participation—at all levels of government and decision-making. This imbalance institutionalizes a tragic divide between actors at the state level where conservative standardization policies originate and the communities and children who are targets or objects of such policies. 

As a researcher, I could similarly address the injurious divide between academic researchers and policymakers. To my university’s credit, this concern is echoed in a series of recent introspective and self-critical essays regarding the positive, bridge-building role that a “citizen-scholar” can play in response to pressing policy issues (Cherwitz, 2005). 

Stated simply, it matters enormously that university researchers are overwhelmingly ensconced in an ivory tower existence where their accountability is mainly to their profession along an open time frame in which to generate policy relevant results, if at all. In contrast, policy makers are accountable to their constituents and they operate within determinate time frames in which to develop solutions to pressing problems. As a consequence there exists a tragic gap between the academy and policymaking that is nonetheless being filled by mercenary, agendic researchers who work for a massive array of well-funded conservative think tanks that in the area of education seek to discredit and then privatize public schools under the guise of expanding choice to taxpayers (Valenzuela, 2004a; Shaker & Heilman, 2002). 

In an absence of both visionary leadership and effective grassroots mobilization, it will be difficult to leverage a significant challenge to this conservative turn in educational politics engendered by the in-creasing influence of both the religious and business right (Valenzuela, 2004a). However, since effective policy development demands a decades-long, committed, political response that civil rights organizations typically embody, I impart my work with Texas LULAC as a model for social action. This activity addresses these two fissures, namely, that between the state and a poor and minority polity whose children are increasingly concentrated in the public school system, as well as that between the academy and policymakers. 

As Education Committee Chair of Texas LULAC, I have had the pleasure of organizing several legislative events that have brought university researchers together with legislative staff, teacher associations, and civil rights organizations to discuss issues related to high-stakes testing and student retention. Through our research, presentations, and publications (Valenzuela, 2002, 2004b), we have made the case that when the test is the sole or primary arbiter in decisions with such long-lasting consequences for children, they have a right to be assessed in a complete and fair manner. This has translated into a legislative remedy that calls for the use of as many criteria as may reasonably indicate children’s cognitive abilities and potential whenever making high-stakes decisions like graduation/non-graduation or promotion/retention in grades 3, 5 and 8 (the state’s new retention policy went into effect in 2003). 

Although for the past two legislative sessions our proposed legislation has been quite specific, it addresses the linchpin of the accountability system—student testing. It should be noted that despite support for the legislation in the Texas House of Representatives, we have encountered political roadblocks with the current and previous chairs of the House Committee on Public Education. As scholars, we nevertheless remain resolute that children are entitled to fairness and validity in assessment. Indeed, this position flows directly from our review of the evidence, including that provided by the state itself. 

As observers of the inner-workings of the accountability system, we further contend that the testing system is performing two incompatible functions in one (McNeil and Valenzuela, 2001). That is, it doubles as both an “assessment” (testing) and “monitoring” system. Particularly in poor and minority schools that are subject to the “gaze” of central office, numbers-based accountability manages the behavior of the adults in the system by pressuring them to perform. The rhetoric gives the impression that all children are finally being taught; however, the reality is that this edict often translates into dumbed-down routinized pedagogy with disastrous implications for student learning and growth. This conflation of functions logically corrupts the assessment since official test results do not control the extent of coaching, cheating, or the marginalizing of those youth who become liabilities under the cur-rent design. By utilizing a more robust evaluation process, our pro-posed multiple criteria legislation addresses this built-in problem of test validity while promising fairness in testing children when so much is at stake to them personally.

Politically, LULAC has been engaged in a protracted effort to educate its base about the harmful effects of high-stakes testing. Our success is evident in the fact that assessment is at the top of our 2005 legislative agenda. Just as importantly, LULAC also spearheads a multi-ethnic, statewide coalition of university faculty, graduate students, and grassroots advocates for fairness and validity in assessment (www.texas-testing.org). Accordingly, we prepare for and plan press conferences, lobby days, television and radio spots, opinion-editorial pieces, and public forums at the grassroots level. 

To conclude, there is much that we as citizen-scholars can do to address the deep and deleterious divides that impact both public life and the development of policy. However formidable the opposition may be, I consider it an extraordinary privilege to both chronicle and par-take in the moment. Indeed, the very act of standing up to injustice is to savor the seeds of triumph. 

References 

Cherwitz, R. (January/February 2005). Citizen-scholars. The Alcalde, 50–60. 

McNeil, L. & Valenzuela, A. (2001). The harmful impact of the TAAS system of testing in Texas: Beneath the accountability rhetoric. In M. Kornhaber & G. Orfield (Eds.), Raising standards or raising barriers? Inequality and high stakes testing in public education (pp. 127–150). New York: Century Foundation. 

Shaker, P. & Heilman, E. E. (2002, January). Advocacy versus authority: Silencing the education professoriate. Policy Perspectives, 3 (1), 1–6. 

Valenzuela, A. (2004a). Accountability and the privatization agenda. In A. Valenzuela (Ed.), Leaving children behind: Why ‘Texas-style’ accountability fails Latino youth. New York: State University of New York Press. 

Valenzuela, A. (2004b). The accountability debate in Texas: Continuing the conversation. In A. Valenzuela (Ed.), Leaving children behind: Why ‘Texas-style’ accountability fails Latino youth. New York: State University of New York Press. 

Valenzuela, A. (2002). High-stakes testing and U.S.-Mexican youth in Texas: The case for multiple compensatory criteria in assessment. Harvard Journal of Hispanic Policy, 14, 97–116. 

Angela Valenzuela is a professor at the University of Texas at Austin and the Education Committee Chair of the Texas League of United Latin American Citizens 

Studies show lack of Latino teachers in the U.S. is a growing issue

Here is the key point of this March 13, 2018 article that underscores the depth of the current crisis.  

"The percentage of Latino teachers nationwide lags far behind the fast-growing percentage of Latino students in the nation’s public school system."  

Many of us are working to address this through Grow Your Own educator projects. Academia Cuauhtli, which is now entering its 6th year, is one such project. 

By "grow," we mean both creating pathways into the teaching profession and growing teachers' critical consciousness.  That is, as community-based organizations, colleges and universities, we work closely with schools and school districts to establish partnerships, provide professional development opportunities for K-12 teachers, as well as offer curriculum and pedagogy at the higher education level that is social justice, community-centered, place-based, and interdisciplinary in ways that map onto the burgeoning movement for Ethnic Studies—locally, as well as nationally.

Very exciting work.  More on all of this in the weeks and months to come.

Sí se puede!  Yes we can!

-Angela Valenzuela

#GYOteachers

Studies show lack of Latino teachers in the U.S. is a growing issue

Despite comprising a quarter of the student population in U.S. schools, Latinos account for just eight percent of teachers. Schools across the country want to know: How can that be changed? 

By Emily Neil | March 13, 2018 | Al Día Education

Emily Neil

According to a recent study from the Center for American Progress released in February, the percentage of Latino teachers nationwide lags far behind the fast-growing percentage of Latino students in the nation’s public school system. Though Latino students make up almost a quarter of the student population in schools nationwide, and that number is expected to grow, only about eight percent of teachers throughout the country identify as Latino. 

The study shows that California has the widest gap between the percentages of Latino students and teachers, at 36.4 percent. Pennsylvania is in the lower half of state rankings, with a gap of 7.9 percent. 

The disproportionate lack of Latino teachers causes problems for both Latino teachers and students, a report from the Education Trust, also released in February, found. Of the sample of 90 teachers from five states and the District of Columbia who were participated in focus groups as part of the Education Trust study, many reported that they are relied upon in their school communities to spend additional time and effort providing translation and interpretation for parents and staff — a role which on top of teaching responsibilities makes for a heavy workload, especially if they might be one of only a few bilingual teachers and staff members at a school where the majority of parents are Spanish-speaking. 

For students, the gap means that they are not often able to see themselves represented in teaching positions and positions of authority. Latino students currently lag behind other groups in graduation rates from both high school and institutions of higher education. Studies have shown that for students of color, having teachers that reflect their identities has the benefit of providing them with role models, higher standards for their own efforts, and a deeper cultural understanding of the context of their lives and backgrounds.

The gap could grow even more. According to some reports, an estimated 20,000 teachers are eligible for DACA or are current DACA recipients, and of these 20,000 about 90 percent are Latino. If, barring congressional legislation, the Trump administration’s injunction to end the program is upheld or enacted, the loss of these already certified and experienced Latino teachers would be a blow to creating a more diverse teacher population. 

The CAP study concluded with recommendations for continuing to address the diversity gap for Latino teachers by recruiting more and maintaining those Latino teachers that are already working in the system. The recommendations include: passage of a clean Dream Act; increasing federal funding to attract more Latinos to teaching; and developing high-quality alternative teaching certification programs that would attract more Latinos. 

“Grow Your Own” programs are pointed out by the Education Trust report as one example of a successful effort to put that last recommendation into action. School districts in Texas, Illinois, California, and other states have begun to implement these programs, which support paraprofessionals, classroom aides, and other support staff in schools — a group shown to be more representative of Latinos and other populations - with tuition assistance and other services in order to attain their teacher certification.

The Numbers Won’t Speak for Themselves

Glad to see that Inside Higher Education published our op-ed.  All of this certainly took its toll for all involved and concerned.  Yes, it is incumbent that we as scholars use our privilege and training to advocate for justice for our communities.
-Angela

The Numbers Won’t Speak for Themselves

An high-profile legal case about Mexican-American studies demonstrates why academics should become publicly engaged in issues in contemporary society, argue Nolan L. Cabrera, Stephen Pitti and Angela Valenzuela.

Judge Wallace Tashima

September 12, 2017

There is an old adage that scholars should simply “let the numbers speak for themselves.” But numbers have never told their own stories, and “disinterested” academics have never simply reported on phenomena without interpreting the data. The world’s best scientists, social scientists and humanists have long considered how their scholarship fits into, and might even change, contemporary society. We are proud that our academic field of Mexican-American studies in particular continues to stress a commitment to publicly engaged scholarship.

That commitment has been on display in places like Arizona for years. A few weeks ago, a more than decade-long fight in Tucson ended when a federal judge ruled that the law used to ban Mexican-American studies from the public secondary school curriculum was both created and enforced with anti-Mexican-American racial animus. This is the most high-profile ethnic studies case in the history of the United States, and we were privileged to serve as the three expert witnesses offered by the plaintiffs in support of Tucson’s program.

The first round of evidence came from Nolan Cabrera and co-authors at the University of Arizona, examining the programmatic efficacy of the Mexican-American studies program. They empirically demonstrated that students who took these courses were more likely to pass their state standardized tests after initial failure and were more likely to graduate from high school than their peers not in the program. This showed that state pressure to disband the program caused unconscionable and unlawful educational harm by removing this promising opportunity from its students -- in particular, Mexican-American students.

The second round of evidence came from Angela Valenzuela of the University of Texas at Austin, who established ethnic studies curricula as legitimate forms of education grounded in generations of scholarship and practice. She demonstrated to the court that Tucson’s disbanded Mexican-American studies program had represented a sound approach to K-12 education, that it was not the hodgepodge the state tried to portray and that the program’s educators were skillful and thoughtful teachers.

Finally, Stephen Pitti of Yale University provided evidence that the history of anti-Mexican-American racism in the Southwest shaped 21st-century debates about Mexican-American studies. He told the court that Arizona policy makers who attacked the program used racial code words to galvanize support from white Arizonans who feared the state’s “Mexicanization.” Racial animus, he emphasized, played a key role in the elimination of the Mexican-American studies program.

Our collective testimony identified the contours and nuances of how certain policies of the state of Arizona limited opportunities and racially discriminated against the Mexican-American community in Tucson. To reach this end as expert witnesses, we worked hard to share our academic expertise in ways that would be helpful to the court and to put our scholarly training at the service of the judicial process.

But it was challenging. Testimonies took many hours to prepare. Each expert report had to be meticulously argued and produced in a short amount of time. The trial preparation was grueling, and testifying proved both exhausting and nerve-racking. In addition, for Cabrera, it involved testifying against the same state that employs him, in a racially hostile environment.

We were impressed by the broad public interest in the educational and political issues discussed throughout the trial, and we took heart in knowing that many other Mexican-American studies scholars have worked on past civil rights cases related to education, voting rights, immigration and much more. We are proud to work in an academic field in which generations of scholars have worked to inform -- and at times, even shift -- public policy and discourse.

The numbers never speak for themselves, and we were gratified beyond measure when Judge A. Wallace Tashima ruled that “the state of Arizona acted contrary to the Constitution of the United States” by eliminating Tucson’s Mexican-American studies program. Many in the Tucson community -- educators, students and others -- had already reached a similar conclusion, but we are pleased that our efforts as scholars also played a role in overturning the unconstitutional elimination of this successful educational program.

Such involvement is crucial for academics. Some people mistakenly think that the case in which we involved had ramifications exclusively for K-12 education. But it’s important to understand that there are those who would eliminate ethnic studies programs in colleges and universities as well. During the move to ban Mexican-American studies in the Tucson Unified School District, the state superintendent of public instruction, John Huppenthal, also wanted to use his position to eliminate Mexican-American studies at the University of Arizona.

Earlier this year, Republican State Representative Bob Thorpe of Flagstaff tried to outlaw university offerings in the state that involved social justice, which would likely have included ethnic studies programs. In other words, this is part of a larger assault on critical multiculturalism, and institutions of higher education are not immune. In fact, they may very well be the next targets.

In these trying times, it is to our detriment that we as academics often remain cloistered in our ivory towers. The work that we do has great value to society at large, and it is incumbent upon us to make the case for that value and then to act on it.

Bio

Nolan L. Cabrera is an associate professor in the Center for the Study of Higher Education at the University of Arizona. Stephen Pitti is a professor of American studies, history, and ethnicity, race and migration at Yale University. Angela Valenzuela is a professor in the educational policy and planning program within the department of educational administration at the University of Texas at Austin; she also holds a courtesy appointment in the cultural studies in education program within the department of curriculum and instruction at the university.