This summer, Idaho joined a growing list of states introducing restrictions on what teachers can and can’t say or show in their classrooms. The latest target? A law banning posters, flags, and other displays that express what lawmakers deem “political, religious, or ideological” viewpoints in K–12 public schools.
Among the first casualties is a once-uncontroversial poster that reads “Everyone Is Welcome Here.”
The controversy began earlier this year in the West Ada School District when 6th grade teacher Sarah Inama was instructed by administrators to remove the poster from her classroom. Inama refused, arguing that the message was not political but simply an affirmation of inclusion and safety for all students.
After weeks of back-and-forth, she chose to resign rather than take the sign down. Her story gained national attention, prompting widespread support from educators, parents, and students alike.
In the wake of the incident, the Idaho Legislature passed House Bill 41, which officially bans teachers from displaying materials that could be considered ideological in nature. The law took effect on July 1.
But for many teachers, this isn’t just about a poster. It’s about the broader message being sent to students and to the educators who serve them.
Why is “Everyone Is Welcome Here” controversial?
On its face, “Everyone Is Welcome Here” seems like a message few would oppose. It has long been used in classrooms to create a sense of safety and belonging—especially for students who may feel marginalized due to race, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability, or immigration status.
But according to Idaho legislators who backed the law, the phrase has taken on what they describe as a political undertone. Lawmakers argue that such signage, even when broadly worded, signals support for “ideologies” they believe should be kept out of public schools.
Supporters of House Bill 41 say the law is necessary to keep classrooms neutral and focused on academics. Critics argue it’s a smokescreen for erasing affirmations of diversity and inclusion under the guise of neutrality.
At the heart of the debate is this question:
When you tell students “everyone is welcome,” who might hear that and feel threatened?
And more pointedly—what does it say about the current climate if a simple message of belonging is treated as too political to display?
Which students are not welcome in classrooms, according to legislators?
They’re too afraid to say it. But we already know who.
What’s next?
For educators in Idaho and elsewhere, this isn’t just a legal change—it’s a moral test. Across the country, teachers are being squeezed between their commitment to students and the increasingly politicized directives from lawmakers.
They’re being told to be neutral in a time that demands clarity.
They’re being told that kindness, empathy, and affirmation might be seen as threats.
They’re being told to sit down and be quiet.
Teachers: If you’re horrified at being asked to comply with these guidelines, don’t be. Just keep asking provocative questions:
- “How about quotes from historical figures regarding justice or equality?”
- “Just curious: Are we banning posters highlighting other positive behavior and character traits?”
- “Should I replace my ‘Everyone Is Welcome’ sign with one that says ‘Most of you are tentatively accepted here unless otherwise legislated’?”
If you’re ready to get in good trouble, now’s the time. You can start by downloading our free “Everyone Is Welcome Here” poster, pictured below.
One last thing
For years as a middle school teacher, I taught Warriors Don’t Cry by Melba Pattillo Beals, one of the Little Rock Nine. The book details her experience integrating Central High School in 1957.
My students—regardless of political background—were horrified by how Black students were treated. But what made them angriest wasn’t just the racism. It was the cowardice and complicity of the adults in charge.
They asked:
- “Why didn’t anyone stop the governor?”
- “Did the principal ever apologize?”
- “Why was everyone so obsessed with hating them? All they wanted to do was go to school.”
Fifty years from now, history students will ask similar questions about this moment.
May we decide now, like Sarah Inama did, that the humanity of our students matters more than the discomfort of those in power.
