You’re Fired—Maybe

November 17, 2025

“You’re fired!”

Donald Trump made the phrase famous.

Tomorrow, my community might say that to me.

That’s the reality of a recall—

not gentle,

not subtle,

but a direct public vote on whether you should stay

or whether your service ends with two sharp words.

And I feel the weight of that.

Not because of the title,

and not because I believe I’m the only one capable of doing this work—

but because our students, staff, and families need stability

more than anything else right now.

And what we need right now is an experienced team committed to guiding our district

from survival mode to the other side,

one small, deliberate step at a time.

The truth is: I’m tired.

Deeply tired.

This year has stretched me in ways I didn’t foresee,

and I’m more than ready for a long exhale,

a long rest,

a long moment without crisis in every direction.

But I’m also anxious—

because the next seven months involve significant decisions—

the kind that determine direction, strengthen foundations,

and affect every corner of our district.

And that’s the part that keeps my heart open in all of this.

So how do I feel about the recall vote tomorrow?

Surprisingly, the emotional terrain tonight

feels a lot like the night before an audition.

Before every audition, I go in with hope,

with a dream role in mind,

with the quiet belief that maybe—maybe—this time

I’ll be chosen for something meaningful.

But auditions rarely move in straight lines.

Sometimes I get the role I deeply wanted.

Sometimes I’m cast in a smaller part with unexpected beauty.

And most times I don’t get cast at all—

and I’m left sitting with the ache,

the disappointment,

the sting of wanting and not receiving,

while reminding myself that the universe must have another plan

for my time,

my energy,

my heart.

This recall feels painfully similar.

If the community keeps me,

I will continue doing this work with steadiness and conviction,

knowing the road ahead matters.

If the community says, “You’re fired,”

I will feel the loss—

because I’ve poured hundreds of hours,

so much stress,

and so much heart

into a role that offers very little pay

but demands executive level responsibility.

But even then, I will trust what I have always learned:

that endings, however painful,

clear space for what comes next.

That sometimes the “no” we didn’t want

is the “not here” or “not now”

we didn’t know we needed.

I care.

I care deeply.

And whatever the vote brings—

whether it’s continuation or conclusion—

I will greet the outcome

with integrity,

with honesty,

and with the same grounded presence

I’ve tried to bring to every meeting,

every decision,

every moment of this work.

The truth is,

I hope the community doesn’t say

“You’re fired”

to me or to any of my fellow board members.

We have work ahead that matters.

Our district’s stability is not a small thing.

But if the community does choose to release us,

I will meet that outcome with open eyes.

Because sometimes the ending we didn’t want

is the beginning we quietly needed.

And if tomorrow brings that kind of ending—

I will let it be the doorway it’s meant to be.

And if I am not recalled?

Then I will receive that outcome with gratitude,

and continue on with steadiness, purpose,

and a renewed commitment

to the work that lies ahead.

2025—you have been something.