Last week, I attended a district leadership meeting where the superintendent opened with a familiar statistic: "We're projecting a 15% teacher vacancy rate for next fall." Heads nodded. Someone mentioned the usual suspects—pay, workload, difficult students. Then we moved on to the next agenda item.
And that's when it hit me. We've normalized the crisis. We talk about teacher retention the way we talk about the weather—something unfortunate that happens to us, beyond our control, requiring us only to adapt and endure.
But here's the truth nobody wants to say out loud: This isn't a crisis that's happening to us. This is a crisis we've created. And until we're willing to have some uncomfortable conversations about why teachers are actually leaving, no amount of "wellness initiatives" or "appreciation weeks" is going to move the needle.
The Exit Interview I'll Never Forget
Three years ago, I sat across from Sarah—a 28-year-old English teacher with five years of experience, glowing evaluations, and a genuine gift for connecting with struggling readers. She was resigning to take a job at a tech company doing instructional design.
"It's not really about the money," she told me. And I believed her, because I'd known her long enough to know that teaching was her calling. "It's that every year, I feel less like a teacher and more like... I don't know... a data entry clerk who occasionally gets to teach between meetings about why my data isn't good enough."
She continued: "Last week, I had to stop a great discussion about metaphor in poetry because we were five minutes behind the pacing guide. My principal walked by, saw what page we were on, and literally made a note on her clipboard. That's when I knew I was done."
I think about Sarah often. Mostly because there have been thirty-seven more Sarahs since then.
What the Data Misses—and What Teachers Know
If you read the research on teacher retention, you'll find the usual list: inadequate compensation, lack of administrative support, increasing demands, challenging student behavior. All true. All important.
But here's what the surveys don't capture: the slow erosion of professional dignity.
Today's teachers aren't just underpaid—they're undertrusted. We've built an entire system predicated on the assumption that teachers need to be monitored, scripted, and corrected at every turn. We say we want to "professionalize" teaching, then we treat teachers like line workers who need their bathroom breaks timed.
Teachers don't just want higher salaries (though they deserve them). They want to be treated like the professionals they are. They want to close their classroom door and teach, without wondering if today's the day their principal will ding them for being off-pacing or for a bulletin board that doesn't match the district template.
The Three Lies We Keep Telling Ourselves
Lie #1: "Teachers today just aren't as resilient as they used to be."
I've heard this one from veteran educators and administrators alike. The implication is that previous generations of teachers were tougher, more committed, better able to handle the demands of the job.
This is nonsense. What's changed isn't teacher resilience—it's the job itself. When I started as a principal in 1997, teachers had planning periods where they actually planned. They had autonomy over their curriculum. They weren't expected to respond to parent emails at 9 PM or spend their weekends entering data into compliance systems.
The teachers leaving aren't weak. They're sane.
Lie #2: "We just need to recruit better candidates."
Every few years, someone proposes a new program to attract "top talent" into teaching. Alternative certification! Signing bonuses! Fast-track programs for STEM professionals!
But here's the problem: Recruitment doesn't matter if retention is broken. You can't solve a retention crisis with better recruiting any more than you can solve a leaky bucket by pouring water faster.
And here's what really bothers me about the "better candidates" narrative: It implies that the problem is the quality of people entering the profession. But I've watched brilliant, dedicated, passionate educators walk away. The problem isn't who we're hiring. It's what we're doing to them once they get here.
Lie #3: "If we just paid teachers more, they'd stay."
I'm going to lose some people here, but I need to say it: Money alone won't fix this.
Don't misunderstand me—teachers absolutely deserve higher pay. The fact that a profession requiring a master's degree pays less than middle management at a fast-food chain is a moral obscenity.
But Sarah wasn't leaving for money. The other thirty-seven weren't either, not primarily. They were leaving because we've constructed a system that takes everything they love about teaching and systematically removes it.
What Great School Leaders Actually Do Differently
I've spent three decades in this profession—as a teacher, assistant principal, principal, and now as someone who consults with districts across the country. And I can tell you this: The schools that retain teachers aren't the ones with the fanciest incentive programs or the best-catered appreciation lunches.
They're the schools where teachers feel trusted.
The schools where a teacher can close their door and teach without fear of being micromanaged.
The schools where "data-driven" doesn't mean "soul-crushing compliance theater."
The schools where administrators run interference for teachers instead of just passing down every ridiculous mandate from the central office.
The schools where "teacher voice" isn't a buzzword deployed in professional development but an actual operating principle.
Five Things We Could Do Tomorrow
If I could sit down with every district superintendent and school board member in America, here's what I'd tell them:
1. Cut the meetings in half. Literally. Tomorrow. Every standing meeting, cut it in half or eliminate it. Teachers don't need more time to discuss data. They need time to plan lessons, collaborate authentically, and occasionally breathe.
2. Give teachers their planning periods back. No more using planning time for coverage, meetings, or "quick touch-bases." Treat planning time as sacred. If you wouldn't interrupt a surgeon mid-operation, don't interrupt a teacher's planning period.
3. Stop evaluating teachers like they're assembly line workers. Observation rubrics with 47 sub-indicators aren't helping anybody. If you can't tell whether someone's a good teacher without a checklist, the problem isn't the checklist.
4. Empower principals to say no. Give building leaders the authority to push back on initiatives that don't serve students. Stop treating principals like middle managers whose job is to implement whatever the central office dreamed up.
5. Ask teachers what they need—and then actually do it. Not in a survey. Not in a "listening session" where the decisions are already made. Actually ask, and actually listen, and actually change things based on what you hear.
The Question That Keeps Me Up at Night
Here's what haunts me: We know what teachers need. We've known for years. The research is clear. The exit interviews are consistent. The solutions aren't complicated.
So why aren't we doing it?
I think it's because fixing teacher retention would require us to admit some uncomfortable truths about what we've done to this profession. It would require giving up control. It would require trusting teachers. It would require acknowledging that many of our "accountability" systems have done more harm than good.
And that's hard. Especially for those of us in leadership positions who've spent years implementing these systems, defending these policies, telling ourselves we were making schools better.
But if we care about students—and I know we do—we have to be willing to have these hard conversations. Because every time a great teacher walks away, it's not just one resignation letter. It's hundreds of students who won't have the teacher they needed. It's dozens of lessons that won't be taught. It's countless moments of connection and inspiration and transformation that will never happen.
Where We Go From Here
I wrote The Collapse: How America Abandoned Its Teachers—and What Comes Next because I needed to tell the truth about what's happening in our schools. Not the sanitized version we present to school boards. Not the politically careful version we share at conferences. The actual truth.
And the truth is this: We can fix this. But not with bandaids. Not with pizza parties and jeans days. We need structural change. We need to fundamentally rethink how we organize schools, evaluate teachers, and define what it means to lead.
Most importantly, we need to remember why people become teachers in the first place. It's not for the paycheck. It's not for the summers off. It's because they believe that teaching matters. That students matter. That education can change lives.
Our job—as leaders, as colleagues, as a society—is to create conditions where those teachers can do their best work. Where they can close their classroom doors and teach. Where they can be the teachers they dreamed of becoming.
Because if we can't do that, no amount of recruitment or retention bonuses will matter.
The teachers will keep leaving. And we'll have no one to blame but ourselves.