When Loyalty Didn’t Go Both Ways

Sometimes the relationships that hurt the most aren’t personal—they’re professional. And those cuts can linger if we don’t figure out what to do with them.

From My Classroom to My Core: When Loyalty Didn’t Go Both Ways

Early in my career, I was chosen to lead a program for students with intellectual disabilities. I ran it with everything I had—creativity, structure, connection, and the kind of energy that made students feel safe and seen. I had a good reputation. I built strong relationships with staff, parents, and even my supervisor, who seemed to recognize my work.

Then the changes started.

The program was moved from one high school to another. I wasn’t thrilled, but I didn’t push back. I was a team player. The next year, after settling into the new school, I was told the program would be moved again—back to the original school. Except this time, I wouldn’t be going. My position was being dissolved.

Instead, I was reassigned to cover for a teacher who was out on leave in a classroom for students with multiple disabilities—a group I hadn’t taught before. It felt like a slap. All the loyalty, all the buy-in, all the trust… it felt like none of it mattered.

I was angry. Bitter. Hurt. I didn’t say much, but inside, I felt replaced. Overlooked. Used.

But the kids in front of me still needed me. That never changed.

So I got to work. What started as a painful assignment turned into something else entirely. After a few months, I saw the program’s gaps—and I couldn’t let it slide. These students needed more. They deserved more.

That’s when the idea came: The Life Skills Lab.

Over the next two years, I built a program from the ground up—cooking, cleaning, laundry, bed-making, real-life, hands-on functional independence. At home, my daughter was still under a year old. My wife, Sarah, gave me her full blessing to stay late at school painting. She knew this mattered—not just for me, but for the students. I rallied community donations, designed the layout, and turned it into something that made our students feel capable and proud.

As the program grew, we even launched a school-wide coffee shop—run by the students themselves. It not only gave them real-world experience, but helped fund future enhancements to the space. It brought the whole school in, and gave the students a meaningful role in their community.

It became the talk of the school. Of neighboring schools. And my supervisor? He watched from the sidelines. I didn’t ask him for a thing.

🔍 What I Learned

I’ve always had a strong sense of justice—and when it feels like someone breaks trust, I take it hard. But I’ve also learned that holding onto bitterness only slows me down. Redirecting that energy into something meaningful doesn’t erase the hurt—but it transforms it. Purpose is the best kind of response.

💡 Why This Stuck With Me

Because I didn’t want to be there. But I showed up anyway. And in doing so, I created something better than what I lost. Not for recognition. Not for payback. For the kids.