DOGE-mandated cuts targeted staff at a Native American college. A lawsuit fights back
LAWRENCE, Kan. — It has been a turbulent month for Adam Strom.
The bad news came on Valentine's Day, Strom recalled. He had just brought flowers and coffee to his wife when his boss, the athletic director at Haskell Indian Nations University, summoned him to a meeting.
"He closed the door and said, 'You're on a list,'" Strom said, recalling his boss's words: "'Executive order,' 'Trump administration,' 'immediate termination.'"
Strom is the head coach of the women's basketball team at Haskell, which is one of two postsecondary institutions in the U.S. operated directly by the federal Bureau of Indian Education.
Last month, he as well as other faculty and staff at Haskell were laid off, caught up in the sweeping reductions to the federal workforce ordered by President Trump and overseen by the group he calls the Department of Government Efficiency, led by billionaire Elon Musk. Among their directives to agencies was an order to cut probationary employees who had been in their positions for less than a year — a group that included 30-some Haskell employees.
The layoffs have thrown the small campus into chaos, say students and other members of the university community. Between the layoffs and nearly a dozen "induced resignations," Haskell lost more than a quarter of its staff in February, according to a new lawsuit filed in federal court.
About 14 of the laid off staff, including Strom, have been reinstated as of Monday. But that "is not even close to enough," said Matt Campbell, the deputy director of the Native American Rights Fund, a legal group representing the plaintiffs in the lawsuit.
"The students and the Tribes deserve better, and we will fight to make sure they get it," he said.
How the basketball coach learned he was target of the DOGE cuts
Strom, an enrolled member of the Yakama Nation, had never worked outside of the Pacific Northwest before accepting the job in Kansas. But he was drawn to Haskell.
His players — all Native American women — have experienced all sorts of challenges in their lives, Strom said. "Being there to help as an educator and coach was enticing," he said.
For his first few years on the job, Strom was employed on season-long contracts. Then, last fall, the school's athletic director offered him a coveted federal position, complete with a retirement plan and benefits.
"It sounded great at the time," he said. His job also included teaching collegiate courses in health and exercise science.
Even when Trump was elected after campaign promises to decimate the federal workforce, Strom never considered he might be among the layoffs. "There was a sense of embarrassment," he said. "Like, I haven't done anything wrong, but I lost my job."
Instead, he was fired just as the women's basketball team was reaching the postseason. Rather than leave the team, Strom stayed on as a volunteer. "I let them know they could remove the coaching title, but they're not removing me from the sidelines," he said.
Treaty obligations and a federal lawsuit
Haskell was established in 1884 as an Indian boarding school — "with ill intentions, intentions of erasure," said Bo Schneider, the president of the board of trustees at the Haskell Foundation, a non-profit that supports the university.
Since then, it has transformed into the nation's only four-year university for Native Americans operated directly by the federal government. The school serves more than 900 students, who represent more than 150 tribal nations.
Haskell isn't like other government programs, Schneider says, or some kind of diversity initiative: Rather, like many federal services for Native Americans, its funding stems from legal obligations the U.S. government agreed to when it signed treaties with Native American tribes.
"That it would be affected by these executive actions and cuts in budgets, you know, add it to the list of broken promises," said Schneider, a member of the Fort Peck Assiniboine and Sioux Tribes.
Those treaty obligations form the basis of the new lawsuit filed Friday in federal court in the District of Columbia. The suit alleges that the federal government violated the law by failing to consult with Tribal nations before implementing the cuts.
Four Haskell students are plaintiffs in the lawsuit, joined by three tribal nations and a student at Southwestern Indian Polytechnic Institute, the other post-high-school institution operated by the Bureau of Indian Education (BIE). The suit names officials at the Department of the Interior, Bureau of Indian Affairs and BIE as defendants.
According to the complaint, instructors for more than 30 classes at Haskell this semester were laid off, disrupting students' progress toward degrees. Financial aid has been delayed, the students say. Bathrooms and cafeterias on campus are in disarray because the layoffs included custodians and food service workers.
If the cuts aren't reversed, the lawsuit warns, Haskell could be at risk of losing its accreditation.
"We have a say in how BIE operates the education provided our children in fulfillment of our treaty rights. We will fight to protect the education they deserve and fight to protect the staff that serve them," said Prairie Band Potawatomi Nation Chairman Joseph Rupnick in a statement announcing the litigation.
In response to a request for comment sent to all three agencies named in the lawsuit, a BIE spokesperson said that the bureau is committed to providing "a quality and culturally appropriate education in a safe, healthy and supportive environment, while prioritizing fiscal responsibility for the American people." The spokesperson declined to comment on ongoing litigation.
The Haskell Foundation, which is not involved in the lawsuit, has raised more than $180,000 over the past month. The donations will fund temporary contracts for the 20-some laid off employees who have not been reinstated, along with assistance for students whose federal financial aid has been frozen, the group says.
Still, "it's a drop in the bucket for what's truly needed at the university," Schneider said, pointing to a $90 million backlog of deferred maintenance on campus.
A basketball team's journey
For the players on the women's basketball team, the end of the season has been an "emotional rollercoaster," said sophomore Alyona Spoonhunter. "Being a Native American woman, it's like we could never win," she said.
Spoonhunter, a center, grew up on two different reservations. Her height and skin color have made it difficult to fit in at times, she said. Being at Haskell among a student body of other Natives, all of them from different backgrounds, has helped her to see more possibilities for what her life could look like, she said.
The layoffs have thrust Haskell into the national spotlight, with reporters on campus and debates on social media about the school's federal funding.
"In the comments of these big articles, they still don't know we exist. They're shocked," Spoonhunter said. "There's comments saying the school should be shut down, which is ridiculous."
For the basketball team, the disruptions couldn't have come at a busier time: March is tournament season, and the Fighting Indians overcame the odds to earn a spot in the NAIA championship tournament. They are scheduled to play Friday as a longshot 16-seed facing the defending champions, Dordt University.
On the court, there's a feeling of the players against the world — a team of Native Americans pushing back against what they feel is the latest in a long history of injustices.
Last Friday, as the team huddled after practice, Coach Strom shared the news of his reinstatement notice. "I received an email today," he told them. "The subject line said 'cancellation of termination.'"
The players cheered, then broke their huddle with the word "family."
Some federal workers have been fired after being reinstated. But Strom is not looking for a new, more stable job right now, he said, because the month he worked without pay gave him a new perspective.
"Every practice, every game, every day, I wanted to be the best version of myself," he said. "I didn't want to coach these ladies like a volunteer. I wanted to coach them like [the] professional they deserve."
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