‘He poked mama bear’: Education clashes shape Virginia governor’s race

Lisa Andrews can recite verbatim the now-infamous debate remark made by Democrat and former Virginia Gov. Terry McAuliffe. And it’s why she’s out so late on a school night. 

“‘I don’t think parents should be telling schools what they should teach,’” quotes the Fairfax mother, at an event for GOP candidate Glenn Youngkin with her young sons Austin and Aidan. 

She’s not the only mother who was angered by Mr. McAuliffe’s statement, made in response to a question about a bill he vetoed as governor. Known as the “Beloved bill,” it would have allowed parents to opt their children out of sexually explicit reading assignments, such as the Pulitzer Prize-winning classic by Toni Morrison. Despite Mr. McAuliffe’s claim that his remark was taken out of context, it has come to define the final stretch of this campaign – adding gasoline to an already blazing fire in the commonwealth over education.

Education is always an issue in governors’ races. And typically, it favors Democrats. But Virginia, like many states, is coming off a pandemic year marked by contentious, and in some cases even violent, school board meetings, in which parents became increasingly frustrated about school closures that many blamed on teachers unions and their Democratic allies.

While all of Virginia’s 132 school districts are back to full-time, in-person learning, tensions have continued to simmer over issues like vaccine requirements and mask mandates. Additionally, many parents, particularly in the critical Northern Virginia suburbs, have taken issue with what they see as radical curriculum changes around race and identity, and a relaxing of standards in the name of equity.

Mr. Youngkin, a former private equity CEO and first-time politician, has made education a core focus of his campaign. He’s held a series of “Parents Matter” rallies across the state, promising to “restore Virginia’s academic excellence” and ban “critical race theory” in schools. His campaign has been blanketing the airwaves with ads on education, including one in which he promises to increase the education budget and teacher pay. 

It appears to be working. In a state Joe Biden won just one year ago by 10 percentage points, polls now suggest a highly competitive race – with Mr. McAuliffe losing significant ground in recent weeks, including a double-digit drop among women. 

If Mr. Youngkin wins tomorrow, Republicans will almost certainly see this race as a playbook for the 2022 midterm elections: a template for how to win back moderate suburbanites who had shifted away from the party under former President Donald Trump. 

More broadly, the battle over education in Virginia points to a core question emerging in many states and localities: Just how much input should parents have into their children’s government-funded education? After watching school unfold in real time over Zoom last year, many parents found they didn’t always agree with what they were seeing – galvanizing previously non-voting mothers like Ms. Andrews to get more involved. 

“Everything going on with the schools is making me zone in on this race,” says Ms. Andrews. “To moms, your children’s education is the most important thing.” 

School board moms

Like “soccer moms” of the 1990s, or “security moms” of the 2000s, this year’s “school board moms” have already been dubbed a pivotal swing vote. 

“These are independent women who live in the suburbs and are concerned about what’s going on in their kids’ schools,” says Jennifer Lawless, an expert on women and politics at the University of Virginia. “They were the ones responsible for providing homeschooling for a year, they are implementing COVID protocols in their home, and in many places, they believe they know better than the government what their kids should be learning.”

College-educated women, many of them suburban mothers, moved markedly away from the Republican Party over the past five years, largely because of their distaste for former President Trump. The trend was especially pronounced in Virginia, where current Democratic Gov. Ralph Northam won by 9 percentage points in 2017, thanks to strong support in the affluent Northern Virginia suburbs.  

But Mr. Trump is no longer center stage. And those suburban voters who shifted to the Democrats are hardly a sure thing for the party going forward, says Patrick Murray, director of Monmouth University Polling Institute. “Because they haven’t been voting Democratic for all that long, you can still move them.” 

Historically, Virginia’s governor’s race – which occurs every four years between presidential and congressional midterm elections – has often swung against the party that holds the White House. Mr. McAuliffe’s election in 2013, following President Barack Obama’s reelection to a second term, was an aberration in that regard.

To be sure, most voters choose their candidate based purely on party identification. And given President Biden’s easy victory last year, and Virginia’s increasingly blue hue in recent election cycles, Professor Lawless says she remains a “little bit skeptical” about the possibility of a Youngkin victory, despite his apparent momentum in the polls. 

Still, the Republicans’ focus on education has been smart, she adds. The underlying point Mr. Youngkin is making fits with the larger Republican message that parents, not the government, should have the ultimate say in decisions that impact their families’ lives. 

A Washington Post-Schar School poll released late last week found Mr. McAuliffe leading among likely voters by a single point, with education now ranking among voters’ top three concerns. Likewise, a Monmouth University poll from late October not only had Mr. McAuliffe and Mr. Youngkin tied among registered voters, but found education and schools had replaced COVID-19 as voters’ second most important issue behind the economy – with Mr. Youngkin trusted slightly more to handle it. Notably, Mr. McAuliffe’s 14-point lead with female voters in September had shrunk to just four points, with Mr. McAuliffe’s lead on the issue of education specifically shrinking 10 points among women. 

The Trump factor

At a rally for Mr. McAuliffe in Arlington, supporters of the former Democratic National Committee chair and longtime Clinton confidante list a host of other concerns – such as abortion and the pandemic – influencing their decision.

“If Youngkin gets in, I’m fearful that Virginia could go the way of Texas on abortion or Florida on COVID,” says Erica Clayton, who’s waiting to enter the rally with her two children. 

“I have two daughters, so it’s important to me that they have the same choices that my generation was afforded [on abortion], if not more,” says Ryann Morales, a midwife from Alexandria who is also attending the event with her children. 

For many, the possibility of another presidential run by Mr. Trump also remains a singular reason to vote Democratic.

“I just don’t want Trump to gain any traction anywhere,” says Rebecca Henry, a mother from Springfield. “He needs to continue to lose everywhere.” 

Mr. McAuliffe has tried hard to tie Mr. Youngkin to the former president, telling supporters over the weekend: “Trump wants to win here so he can announce for president for 2024.” Mr. Trump himself seemed to echo that point on Monday, issuing a statement refuting reports that he and Mr. Youngkin were “at odds,” and insisting “we get along well together and strongly believe in many of the same policies.”

The McAuliffe campaign has also belatedly tried to turn the education issue back to its advantage. At a rally last week with President Biden, copies of “Beloved” were distributed to some members of the press with warnings about a governor who was willing to ban books. And a slate of Democratic surrogates repeatedly emphasized Mr. McAuliffe’s educational achievements during his term in office.

But it might be too little too late.

Some of Mr. Youngkin’s success thus far may be specific to him. The former Carlyle Group executive has tried to walk a fine line in his efforts to appeal to both pro-Trump conservatives and anti-Trump moderates – a task that has stymied many other GOP candidates. He has accepted the former president’s endorsement, but has also mostly held him at arm’s length, never campaigning in person with him. Last month, after Trump supporters at a “Take Back Virginia” rally pledged allegiance to a flag supposedly carried at the Jan. 6 riot at the U.S. Capitol, Mr. Youngkin – who did not attend the event – issued a statement calling it “weird and wrong.” 

Many GOP strategists see Mr. Youngkin as mapping out a path for Republicans to ride the education culture wars all the way back to control of the U.S. House and Senate, and possibly even the White House. If the party can win back a portion of the suburban vote it lost during the Trump years, while retaining or even growing its hold on working-class voters, it would make for a powerful electoral coalition. 

“This is basically the crucible for what is going to come in 2022,” says John Fredericks, chairman of Mr. Trump’s Virginia campaign in 2016 and 2020. “It’s going to drive Republican [turnout] through the roof.”

Waiting for Mr. Youngkin’s event to begin at the Burke Fire and Rescue Department, Heather Metz and Anne Taydus describe Mr. McAuliffe’s debate comment as a Freudian slip: an insight into how Democrats really feel about parents.

“It’s like, ‘Terry, are you their father?’” says Ms. Taydus sarcastically. She gestures to Ms. Metz and the other women around her. “He poked mama bear. That’s a mistake.”