This is Mr. Funky Teacher with BeAFunkyTeacher.com. I'm coming to you with another Be a Funky Teacher podcast. Welcome back, everyone. Today’s episode is the first official Freedom to Teach episode. Now, Freedom to Teach is a series, but it’s not on a strict schedule. It’s not weekly. It’s not monthly. It’s a lens I’ll use when something really hits me. Sometimes it might be something from sports. Sometimes it could be leadership. Sometimes it’s a current event that won’t leave me alone. And sometimes it might be political. Local decisions. State policies. National conversations. Even international moments. Not from a party perspective — from a principal perspective. Because wherever it shows up, the deeper question is always the same: What happens when professionals are trusted and given the agency to teach? And what happens when they’re not? That’s where this series lives. Today’s episode is titled Autonomy on Ice. It centers on the journey of Alysa Liu, but it’s also about something bigger. It’s about why people stay and why they leave. Before we move on, I want to ground myself in gratitude, just like I do with every Be a Funky Teacher episode. Three things that I’m thankful for. The first thing I’m thankful for is professional trust. When you feel trusted, your energy multiplies. The second thing that I’m thankful for is seasons that have clarified what I need and what I have needed over the years to sustain myself in this work long term. And the third thing that I’m thankful for is the courage to make aligned decisions, even when they’re hard. Well, let’s get into the main topic, y’all. Freedom to Teach. Autonomy on Ice. Let’s talk about when the dream stops feeling like yours. At 13 years old, Alysa Liu wasn’t just skating well — she was winning national titles, standing on podiums taller than she was, being called the future of American figure skating. Imagine being 13 years old and hearing that. Imagine knowing that every time you step onto the ice, people aren’t just watching you and your routine. They’re watching what they think your future should be. Every performance carried expectations. At 16 years old, after competing in the 2022 Winter Olympics, she stepped away from the sport. Not because she failed. Because she wasn’t enjoying it anymore. That’s the part that matters. When the thing you once chose starts to feel heavier than the joy it used to bring, something shifts. In education, that shift can happen quietly. You start because you love it. And somewhere along the way, the work begins to feel less like a calling and more like constant evaluation. That’s where erosion begins. Burnout is often about erosion, not effort. Teaching has always required effort. Effort isn’t what pushes people out. Erosion does. When professional judgment shrinks. When expertise isn’t trusted. When instincts are replaced by scripts. Burnout doesn’t begin when teachers are tired. It begins when teachers feel like their voice doesn’t matter. And here’s the bigger truth. Some teachers don’t just change districts. They leave the profession entirely. Not because they stopped caring. But because they stopped feeling ownership. That’s the conversation we need to be willing to have. There was a moment in my career when I had to ask: Can I sustainably do this long term in this environment? This wasn’t about blaming anyone. It wasn’t about criticizing a district. It was about honest reflection. Part of my decision to change school districts was survival. I realized I don’t thrive in environments where my professional discretion feels limited. But part of it was growth. I wanted to build culture deeper. Lean further into student voice. Bring my full personality into my classroom. That decision wasn’t reactionary. It was aligned. And here’s an even bigger layer. I stayed in the profession. When teachers feel trusted and given the agency to teach, they stay. When they don’t, many walk away entirely. Freedom changes performance. When Alysa started thinking about coming back — and when she actually did return to competition — she came back differently. She chose her music. She chose her choreography. She chose her structure. She described herself as an artist first. She wasn’t skating to meet expectations. She was skating because it felt like it was hers again. That ownership changed everything. Eventually, she stood back on top of the podium. When teachers are trusted and given the agency to teach, something similar happens. Creativity expands. Energy returns. Leadership strengthens. Freedom doesn’t lower standards. It strengthens commitment. We talk about teacher shortages. We talk about workload. Rarely do we talk about agency. Rarely do we ask: Do teachers feel trusted? Do they feel empowered to lead in their classrooms? Do they feel like professionals — or implementers? If we want teachers to stay long term, trust isn’t optional. It’s foundational. Longevity is the real win. Not surviving five years. Not hopping from place to place. But staying because the work still feels like yours. Autonomy isn’t a luxury. It’s oxygen. If we want teachers to remain in the profession, we must build environments where trust and agency are real — not just words. Freedom restores ownership. Ownership restores energy. Energy sustains passion. And when teachers are trusted and given the agency to teach, they don’t just survive the profession. They remain in it. They lead it. They strengthen it. If this Freedom to Teach episode stirred something in you, share it with another educator who believes that trust matters. And reflect on this: What would need to shift for more teachers to stay? As you go into your day, remember to inspire greatness in young people. And don’t forget to be a funky teacher. Bye now.