💣 “Fired” Up: When Loyalty Costs $2,000 and a Chunk of Your Soul

(A Love Letter to Educators Who Are Done Being Muzzled, Moved, and Mined for Free Labor)

The other night, I was texting my dad and asked if he was ready for retirement. He replied, “I think I still owe the governor.”

Same, Dad.
Same.

I laughed and replied, “F**k him. He has enough of your money.”
Then I said, “I just sent an email to the superintendent and the school board about forcing us to sign ‘intent to return’ forms and fining us if we resign. Guess I’m feeling kinda firey today.”

Only… my phone autocorrected firey to fired.

Ironic? An omen?
Possibly prophetic.
But also: I don’t care.

Because what’s the real risk here? That I speak up and face consequences? Or that I keep complying with a broken system and become one of the people who sees the harm and lets it keep happening?

As my partner Dustin said—if you see the bullshit and you stay silent, you are the problem. And he’s right. Compliance is the cozy blanket that keeps injustice warm and well-fed.

So here’s the latest flavor of bullshit:
If I don’t sign an “intent to return” form by June 15, the district considers it a voluntary resignation. If I do sign it and then later choose to leave? I owe them money. Not just a little money. Up to $2,000 in “liquidated damages.”

Let me be clear:
I just gave the district 24 hours of my own unpaid time to move my classroom due to construction. That was expected of me. No bonus. They offered me sub time so that I could pack up, but I was still responsible for sub notes (which take roughly 2 hours of time to compile). There were many things I couldn’t pack up until the very last second, because an obscene amount of materials are needed to operate an art classroom on a daily basis. When I attempted to put in a time card to be compensated for these hours I was told the district does not pay for such things, but my principal kindly offered to pay for my sub out of an internal fund as his only real avenue to repay me. I appreciated the gesture, but again, this requires sub notes, and I would have greatly preferred simply being compensated from my time.

But if I dare to leave after the magical date of June 15?
I’ll owe them.

Because their time has value.
And mine? Apparently not.

And if that wasn’t enough of a cosmic joke, let’s talk taxes.

I pay taxes to fund the state.
The state then uses those taxes to pay me.
And then—wait for it—they tax the money they just gave me…

So essentially, I’m paying for my own paycheck and getting taxed for the privilege of receiving it.

Is it just me, or is that a little… screwed? Like a capitalist ouroboros (you know, that ancient symbol of a snake eating its own tail—except in this case the tail is teacher-shaped and tired as hell).

Meanwhile, the same system that skims off every corner of my income will slap me with a $2,000 fine if I decide to stop participating in the charade.

Imma let IntegriTea, AudaciTea, and ClariTea step forward to say it again—nice and loud for the people in the back: (Haven’t met my inner Tea Party? You’re in for a treat → Meet the Teas)
The system demands free labor from teachers—then punishes them financially for leaving.
In what other profession does this happen?
Where else are you fined for accepting another job offer?
ClariTea: “Logically? Nowhere. It’s completely irrational.”
IntegriTea: “Let’s call it what it is — unethical.”
AudaciTea: “But totally on-brand for a system built on guilt, fear, and underpayment.”

It’s coercive. It’s exploitative. It’s unethical.
It’s dressed up in professional language and statutory smoke and mirrors, but at its core it’s one thing:
Control.

And the kicker? Every year I’ve swallowed this.
Every year I’ve told myself it’s just not worth the fight, I’m only one person, and nothing will change.
PityParTea showed up draped in drama: “Why bother? They always dismiss your needs. This will be just like every other time you spoke up.”
DispariTea? She didn’t say a word, but I could feel her quietly bracing for disappointment. She’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
FrosTea rolled her eyes, “Go ahead, rile ’em up. What’s the worst that could happen-you make things worse for yourself?”

I didn’t want to make things worse, so I diminished my own worth and made myself small. What the fuck was I thinking!? Every single important change started with just one person willing to stand up and say,
“Um, excuse me, this shit is bogus!”
Ok, so maybe they didn’t say it like that, but the overall essence remains. Enough of the charade.

I’m done swallowing and tolerating disrespect dressed up as “duty”. I’m done jumping through flaming hoops to prove my worth. I’m done giving time and energy that isn’t truly valued.
What I am doing is burning down this whole paper palace of polite compliance and planted a flag in the ashes.
I’ve been choking on the silence for FAR too long, and I KNOW I am not the only one.
When I shared the email I sent to the superintendent and the school board, my partner Duane remarked, “Damn baby! You laid it out and handed them their ass!”

This policy doesn’t reflect professionalism.
It reflects FEAR.
It reflects a system that knows if teachers were truly free to leave without penalty, they would.

I sent the email- you can read it here. I spoke the truth. And if that truth gets me “fired”?
So be it.

Because if we all keep accepting this kind of policy as “just how it is,” then we are part of the reason it keeps happening. The district can’t keep saying it values its educators while treating them like a renewable, replaceable, and obedient resource.

You want loyalty?
Start with respect.

You want commitment?
Start with consent.

And if you want me to sign something under duress, knowing you’ll punish me for changing my mind later?

Then you don’t want a teacher.
You want a hostage.

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A Call to Action:

💬 If you’re an educator who’s tired of swallowing broken policies in silence, I see you. I’m with you. Reach out. Let’s stop simmering down and start rising up. We are the most valuable resource they have and it’s time we start acting like it— demanding to be treated like the goddamn professionals, prophets, peacekeepers, and pillars holding up this crumbling system that we so clearly are. We are dragon-hearted badasses, and somewhere along the way, we forgot that. Well, I remember. It’s time to practice what we preach and show our students exactly what it looks like to do what’s right—not what’s easy.