Since “loyalty” seems to be the hot topic these days, maybe it’s time someone spoke about what loyalty really looks like from the inside of a classroom.
I was hired in Baldwin County in 2002 to teach remedial reading. Two years later, I joined one of our local elementary schools, a school that sat at the bottom of nearly every list academically and behaviorally. It wasn’t easy, but I stayed there for 17 years. I worked hard because I loved those kids and their families.
I taught children whose parents had once been in my class. I helped a custodian’s family find a safe home by working with Habitat for Humanity, even tracking down land so that home could be built in the district. I gave everything I had to my school, my students, and my community. That, to me, was loyalty.
Coming Back When I Was Needed
In 2019, after nearly two decades, I needed a break. Like so many teachers, I was burned out but not ready to quit education forever. I opened a small business that gave me joy for a while, but when it closed in early 2022, I was asked to return to teaching.
An assistant superintendent called and invited me back to my old school to help implement a new pilot program for students with behavioral challenges who didn’t qualify for special education. I said yes, gladly. These were the students I knew best, the ones who needed understanding and consistency.
I received glowing evaluations. My administrators praised my work. My colleagues commended the progress I made with the children. It was a challenging year, but a fulfilling one. For the first time in a long time, I felt excited about what I was doing again.
Then in May 2023, I was blindsided with a pink slip. No warning. No explanation. Just “thank you, but your position won’t be renewed.”
A System That Says One Thing and Does Another
The irony is hard to miss. Across Baldwin County, we keep hearing about the teacher shortage, how it’s harder than ever to find good educators, how classrooms are overcrowded, and how veteran teachers are leaving faster than districts can replace them.
Yet here I was, a veteran teacher with perfect attendance, excellent evaluations, and a proven record of success, let go without a single conversation or opportunity to interview for any of the open positions in my own school.
There was even an opening in second grade, a level I had taught for five years with strong results. But instead, my position was filled by someone who happened to be the assistant principal’s close friend, a transfer from another school.
How does that make sense in a district begging for qualified teachers? When you’re firing experience in the middle of a teacher shortage, it’s not a personnel issue. It’s a leadership problem.
When Loyalty Only Goes One Way
People in power love to talk about loyalty. But I’ve learned that in Baldwin County loyalty often only flows upward. Teachers are expected to stay silent, to comply, to absorb whatever comes their way no matter how unfair.
At this specific school, a culture of fear replaced collaboration. The leadership team came as a package deal from another school, where the principal had reportedly been placed on leave for bullying staff. Those same behaviors followed them here, unchecked. Teachers whispered about it, but no one dared speak up. Even the Alabama Education Association heard the complaints but did nothing.
This is what loyalty looks like in Baldwin County: Being told not to use the emergency button during a fight. Being told to “suck it up” when parents curse you out. Being left alone in dangerous situations and being told to stay quiet if you get hurt. That’s not loyalty. That’s survival.
What Loyalty Really Means
I’ve never lied about my story, never embellished a detail to make myself look better or worse. I’ve simply told the truth. I was an excellent employee with strong faith, solid morals, and a commitment to kids who needed me most.
I wasn’t asking for special treatment, only fairness. But fairness is a rare currency in education these days. For those unfamiliar with Alabama law, non-tenured teachers can be terminated for any reason during their first three years. When I came back in August 2022, my tenure clock reset. By law, the district could let me go for no reason. And that’s exactly what they did.
Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. You can speed on the highway, but you shouldn’t. You can break a promise, but you shouldn’t. And you can fire a loyal, qualified teacher, but when there’s a statewide teacher shortage, you absolutely shouldn’t.
My Loyalty Now
My loyalty no longer lies with administrators who use it as a weapon. My loyalty lies with the teachers still standing, the ones who show up daily despite exhaustion, fear, and lack of respect. My loyalty is with the administrators and board members who still see what’s happening and keep fighting for the kids.
I was loyal for over 20 years. I gave my heart to this system. But I’ve learned that loyalty means nothing to people who only demand it and never return it. So before anyone preaches to me about loyalty again, maybe they should show what it actually looks like. Because true loyalty, the kind that builds schools and saves students, can’t be demanded. It’s earned.
Ina Dunn is the pseudonym of a former Baldwin County teacher.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
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