BIG EDUCATION APE BLOG'S NEW YEAR'S DAY EXTRAVAGANZA
SURVIVING 2025 AND STUMBLING HOPEFULLY INTO 2026
A Love Letter to Public Education (With a Side of Righteous Fury)
Well, folks, we made it. We actually made it through 2025. I'm not entirely sure how—possibly through a combination of caffeine, gallows humor, and the sheer stubborn refusal of teachers everywhere to let democracy die on their watch—but here we are, standing on the precipice of 2026 like survivors of an educational apocalypse, clutching our red pens and our principles with equal fervor.
As I sit here on New Year's Day, nursing what I'm calling a "democracy hangover" (symptoms include: exhaustion, righteous indignation, and an inexplicable urge to fact-check everything), I can't help but reflect on the absolute dumpster fire that was 2025. And let me tell you, calling it a dumpster fire is an insult to dumpsters, which at least serve a useful purpose.
The Year That Was (Unfortunately)
Where do we even begin? It's like trying to pick the worst song at a Nickelback concert—they're all terrible, but some achieve a special level of awful that defies description.
The Trump administration returned to Washington like a bad sequel nobody asked for—think "Jaws 19" but with more corruption and worse hair. And just like a bad movie franchise, they brought back all the villains from the first installment, plus some terrifying new characters that make you wonder if someone's casting from a dystopian nightmare generator.
Stephen Miller, our "Scoundrel of the Year" (a title he won by a landslide, beating out stiff competition from a rogues' gallery of deplorables), has been busy turning cruelty into policy with the efficiency of someone who clearly missed the entire point of every children's book ever written. I'm starting to think he was the kid who rooted for Voldemort.
Then there's Pete Hegseth, RFK Jr. (who apparently thinks vaccines are scarier than measles, which is like thinking seatbelts are more dangerous than car crashes), Pam Bondi, and Russell Vought—a collection of individuals so spectacularly unqualified for their positions that it's like watching someone hire a arsonist as a fire chief and then acting surprised when everything burns down.
And let's not forget Elon Musk, who somehow gained access to Treasury payment systems (because what could possibly go wrong with giving a billionaire with a Twitter addiction control over government finances?), and Kash Patel, Marco Rubio, Karoline Leavitt, Kristi Noem (who filmed herself in tactical gear like she's auditioning for a low-budget action movie), Mike Johnson, and JD Vance—a supporting cast of characters that would be hilarious if they weren't actually running the country.
The Greatest Hits (Or Should I Say, The Worst Misses?) of 2025
Let me take you on a magical mystery tour through some of 2025's most spectacularly terrible moments. Buckle up, buttercups—this is going to be bumpier than a school bus with broken suspension:
January: The year started with Trump spreading misinformation about a truck attack (because why let facts get in the way of a good fear-mongering opportunity?), pardoning ALL January 6 defendants (including violent offenders, because apparently "law and order" only applies to other people), and launching not one but TWO family cryptocurrencies that lost value faster than his credibility. Nothing says "I'm here to serve the people" quite like a good old-fashioned grift before you've even unpacked your boxes at the White House.
Oh, and he withdrew from the World Health Organization during a global health crisis, because timing is everything. He also ended birthright citizenship via executive order (take THAT, Constitution!), renamed Mt. Denali back to Mt. McKinley (because Indigenous peoples' wishes are apparently just suggestions), and fired 17 independent Inspectors General without following legal procedures. It was like watching someone speedrun authoritarianism.
The Climate and Environment: Trump withdrew from the Paris Climate Agreement (again!), ended the Energy Star appliance-efficiency program (because who needs efficient appliances when you can just burn more fossil fuels?), banned new leases for offshore wind turbines, and deregulated the oil and gas industry. Mother Earth called—she wants a restraining order.
The Trade War Spectacular: Imposed blanket tariffs that triggered global trade wars and inflation, because apparently "Make America Great Again" actually means "Make Everything More Expensive." Economists everywhere wept into their spreadsheets as North American trade agreements teetered on the brink of collapse.
The Foreign Policy Circus: Where do I even start? He froze all foreign aid, halting critical humanitarian programs worldwide (leading to an estimated 600,000 deaths—but who's counting?). He suspended refugee admissions except for select white South Africans (the racism isn't even subtle anymore, folks). He proposed resettling Gazans and turning Gaza into a resort zone (because nothing says "peace in the Middle East" like gentrification).
He threatened to abandon NATO, floated annexing Canada (which went about as well as you'd expect—Canada politely but firmly told him where to go), threatened military takeover of Greenland and the Panama Canal (because apparently he thinks the presidency comes with a game of Risk), and suggested U.S. withdrawal from the U.N. Oh, and he accepted a $400 million jet from Qatar, because ethics are for losers.
The Domestic Disaster Tour: Cut children's Medicaid, nutrition, and vaccine programs (because healthy kids are overrated?). Slashed funding to NIH and CDC, weakening U.S. health infrastructure right when we need it most. Embraced Project 2025, that delightful blueprint for dismantling federal protections and agencies. Fired thousands of federal employees and froze new hiring. Revoked federal recognition of transgender Americans. Defunded civil rights enforcement mechanisms in the DOJ. Shut down DEI programs across federal departments.
He attempted to revoke birthright citizenship, halted the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program entirely, escalated deportation flights to countries with severe rights violations, allowed ICE access to IRS tax data to target immigrants, and launched a "self-deportation" campaign. ICE agents were given permission to arrest migrants in churches, hospitals, and schools—because sanctuary has become just another word we've forgotten the meaning of.
Oh, and he considered suspending habeas corpus for faster deportations, because the Constitution is apparently more of a suggestion than a binding legal document.
The Corruption Cavalcade: Used the presidency to promote personal and family businesses (shocking, I know). Redirected federal contracts to political allies and donors. Appointed unqualified loyalists to high-ranking posts. Refused to disclose visitor logs or presidential schedules. Pardoned former Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich and let Steve Bannon avoid punishment for his border wall scam. Dropped charges against NYC Mayor Eric Adams despite evidence of corruption.
And in a move that would make Marie Antoinette blush, he announced plans to construct a ballroom in the White House—because when Rome is burning, you might as well dance, right?
Education Under Siege: The Main Event
But this is an education blog, so let's talk about the elephant in the classroom—or should I say, the wrecking ball aimed directly at public education.
The Federal Threat
The Trump administration's hostility toward federal involvement in education isn't just a policy position—it's a crusade. They're not just trying to reduce the Department of Education; they want to dismantle it entirely, like some kind of bureaucratic demolition derby.
The message is clear: public education, that cornerstone of democracy and social mobility, is under attack. And it's not subtle. It's not a scalpel; it's a sledgehammer wielded by people who either never understood or have deliberately forgotten that an educated populace is essential to a functioning democracy.
Federal funding for schools? Slashed. Programs supporting low-income students, students with disabilities, English language learners? On the chopping block. Civil rights protections in schools? Defunded and ignored. It's like they looked at all the things that help vulnerable students succeed and said, "Yeah, let's get rid of that."
The Voucher and Charter School Fight
Meanwhile, the push for vouchers and charter schools continues with the subtlety of a bulldozer at a tea party. The privatization crowd is having a field day, selling the idea that the solution to underfunded public schools is to... defund them more and give the money to private entities with zero accountability.
It's the educational equivalent of saying, "Your house has a leaky roof, so instead of fixing it, we're going to give your neighbor money to build a new house, and you can just hope they let you visit sometimes."
Charter schools and voucher programs siphon resources from public schools, often with less oversight, less accountability, and a troubling tendency to cherry-pick students while leaving public schools to serve everyone else with even fewer resources. It's not school choice; it's school abandonment dressed up in free-market rhetoric.
And let's be clear: many charter schools do good work. But the wholesale replacement of public education with a patchwork of private and semi-private entities isn't reform—it's demolition. It's the dismantling of the promise that every child, regardless of zip code or family income, deserves a quality education.
AI in the Classroom: Promise and Peril
Then there's artificial intelligence, which has burst into education like an uninvited guest at a party—potentially useful, but also kind of creepy and nobody's quite sure what to do with it.
On one hand, AI offers incredible possibilities: personalized learning, instant feedback, assistance for students with disabilities, tools that could help teachers manage their crushing workloads. On the other hand, it raises serious questions about privacy, equity, academic integrity, and whether we're preparing students for a future with AI or just teaching them to be dependent on it.
I've watched teachers grapple with ChatGPT-generated essays, administrators rush to implement AI tools without proper training or ethical guidelines, and students navigate a landscape where the line between assistance and cheating has become blurrier than a Bigfoot photograph.
And here's the kicker: while we're debating the ethics of AI in education, tech companies are racing ahead, often with more interest in profit than pedagogy. We need thoughtful integration of technology in schools, not a gold rush where students are the product and their data is the currency.
The challenge isn't whether to use AI—that ship has sailed—but how to use it ethically, equitably, and in ways that enhance rather than replace human connection and critical thinking. Because if there's one thing 2025 has taught us, it's that we need MORE critical thinking, not less.
Teachers: The Real Heroes
Let's talk about teachers for a moment. Actually, let's talk about them for several moments, because they deserve it.
Teachers in 2025 have been asked to do the impossible: teach rigorous content while also being counselors, social workers, tech support, supply purchasers (with their own money, naturally), security guards, public health officials, and apparently now AI ethics experts. They're expected to prepare students for jobs that don't exist yet, using technology that's changing faster than curriculum can keep up, in buildings that are often crumbling, with resources that would make a dollar store look lavish.
And they're doing all of this while being blamed for every societal ill, attacked for teaching "controversial" topics (like history and science), paid salaries that require second jobs, and treated like glorified babysitters by people who couldn't last a day in their classrooms.
The teacher shortage isn't a mystery—it's the predictable result of treating professionals like disposable commodities. We've asked teachers to save democracy with one hand tied behind their backs, no budget, and a target on their backs, and then we act surprised when they leave the profession in droves.
To every teacher who made it through 2025: You are seen. You are valued. You are the reason democracy has a fighting chance. Thank you for showing up every day, even when it felt impossible. Especially when it felt impossible.
Parents and Students: In the Trenches Together
And parents! Oh, parents. You've been navigating a system that seems designed to make your lives harder. School board meetings have become battlegrounds. Curriculum has become a political football. Your children's education has been caught in the crossfire of culture wars that have nothing to do with learning and everything to do with power.
You've watched your kids struggle with the mental health crisis that nobody wants to adequately fund solutions for. You've tried to support their learning while also working, managing households, and maintaining your own sanity (good luck with that last one). You've had to become experts in educational policy just to understand what's happening in your kids' schools.
To the parents fighting for fully-funded public schools, for comprehensive curriculum, for support services, for their children's right to learn in safe, inclusive environments: thank you. Your advocacy matters. Your voice matters. Keep showing up to those board meetings, even when they're exhausting. Democracy is a participation sport.
And students—you've been amazing. You've adapted to changing technology, navigated social pressures that would have broken previous generations, and watched adults make a mess of things while somehow maintaining hope for the future. You've organized, advocated, and refused to accept that this is as good as it gets. You give me hope.
The Gratitude Section (Yes, Really)
Despite the darkness—and let's be honest, 2025 was pretty damn dark—there are lights. Bright, beautiful, stubborn lights that refused to be extinguished.
To the bloggers and writers who kept documenting, analyzing, and truth-telling even when it felt like shouting into the void: You matter. Your words matter. You're creating the historical record and keeping people informed. Special shoutout to the education bloggers who've been in the trenches, calling out bad policy and celebrating good practice. You're doing the work.
To the politicians who've stood up for public education, even when it wasn't politically expedient: Thank you. We see you fighting for funding, for equity, for the principle that education is a public good, not a private commodity. Keep fighting.
To the artists, musicians, poets, and creators who've used their platforms to support public education and democratic values: Your work sustains us. Art isn't a luxury; it's oxygen. It's how we process trauma, imagine better futures, and remember our humanity.
To the activists and organizers who've been doing the unglamorous work of building coalitions, planning protests, registering voters, and keeping the pressure on: You're the backbone of resistance. Social change doesn't happen accidentally; it happens because people like you make it happen.
To the journalists still doing actual journalism in an era of misinformation and attacks on the press: Your work is essential. Keep digging. Keep reporting. Keep holding power accountable.
To everyone who's been fighting the good fight in whatever way you can—whether that's attending school board meetings, writing letters to representatives, supporting teachers, donating to public school foundations, or just refusing to accept that cruelty is normal: Thank you. Resistance is built from a million small acts of courage.
Looking Ahead: The 2026 Midterms and Hope
Here's the thing about darkness: it makes even small lights visible. And 2026 brings something precious: an opportunity.
The midterm elections aren't just another election cycle—they're a chance to provide oversight, accountability, and a check on the absolute chaos of the past year. They're an opportunity to say, loudly and clearly, that we don't accept this as normal. That we remember what democracy looks like, and this ain't it.
Every House seat is up for grabs. A third of the Senate. State legislatures. Governorships. School boards. These elections will determine whether the next two years are more of the same or the beginning of a course correction.
But—and this is important—elections alone won't save us. They're necessary but not sufficient. We need sustained engagement, organization, and action.
So What Do We Do?
I'm glad you asked. Here's your assignment for 2026 (and yes, there will be a test—it's called democracy):
1. Organize: Join or start a group focused on public education advocacy. Connect with other parents, teachers, community members. Build coalitions. Power doesn't concede anything without a demand, and demands are more effective when they come from organized groups.
2. Protest: Show up. Make noise. Be visible. Protests work—not always immediately, but they shift the conversation and show that people care. They make the invisible visible. They remind politicians that they work for us, not the other way around.
3. Vote: In every election. Primary, general, special, school board, municipal, state, federal—all of it. And help others vote too. Give people rides to the polls. Help them register. Make sure they know what's on the ballot. Voting is the floor, not the ceiling, of civic engagement, but it's a crucial floor.
4. Communicate: Blog, tweet, post, podcast, make memes, write letters to editors, call your representatives, testify at school board meetings, talk to your neighbors. Use whatever platform you have, however small. The antidote to misinformation is more good information. The antidote to silence is voice.
5. Support: Teachers need supplies, time, respect, and decent pay. Public schools need funding and community support. Students need adults who believe in them. Show up for your local schools. Volunteer. Donate. Advocate for proper funding. Treat teachers like the professionals they are.
6. Learn: Understand how your school system works. Who's on the school board? What's in the budget? What policies are being proposed? You can't fight what you don't understand. Do your homework (yes, adults have homework too).
7. Take Care of Yourself: This is a marathon, not a sprint. Burnout helps nobody. Rest is resistance. Joy is resistance. Community is resistance. Take breaks. Laugh. Spend time with people you love. Engage in activities that restore you. You can't pour from an empty cup, and we need you for the long haul.
The Humor and Hope Section (Because We Need It)
Look, if we can't laugh, we'll cry, and I've already exceeded my crying quota for the year (it was a low bar, and 2025 smashed right through it).
So let's find humor where we can:
At least we're getting a masterclass in civics? Nothing teaches the importance of checks and balances quite like watching what happens when they disappear!
The Trump administration is so corrupt that political science professors don't have to use hypothetical examples anymore. "What if a president accepted a $400 million jet from a foreign government?" "Oh, you mean like last Tuesday?"
Teachers have become so good at adapting to chaos that they could probably run a Fortune 500 company while simultaneously breaking up a fight, teaching photosynthesis, and fixing the printer. (Actually, scratch that—nobody can fix the printer.)
The silver lining of AI in education: at least when students use ChatGPT to write essays, the grammar is better than it used to be? (I'm reaching here, folks.)
School board meetings have become so wild that they should sell popcorn. Actually, they probably should—it would help the budget.
Final Thoughts: Balance and Optimism
Here's what I know: Education is messy, complicated, underfunded, and under attack. It's also beautiful, transformative, essential, and worth fighting for.
Public education is one of the most radically democratic institutions we have. It's the promise that every child—regardless of who their parents are, how much money they have, what they look like, where they worship, or who they love—deserves an opportunity to learn, grow, and reach their potential. It's the promise that we're all in this together, that your child's success doesn't diminish mine, that we rise or fall as a community.
That promise is under assault. But it's not dead. Not even close.
I've seen teachers work miracles with nothing but determination and creativity. I've seen students overcome obstacles that would flatten most adults. I've seen parents fight like hell for their kids and other people's kids too. I've seen communities rally around their schools. I've seen ordinary people do extraordinary things because they believe in the promise of public education.
That's what gives me hope. Not naive, Pollyanna hope that everything will magically get better. But stubborn, eyes-wide-open hope that says: This is hard, and it's going to stay hard, but we're not giving up. We're going to keep showing up, keep fighting, keep believing that education is a right, not a privilege, and that democracy is worth defending.
2025 was brutal. It was a year of watching things we thought were settled—basic democratic norms, civil rights, truth itself—come under sustained attack. It was exhausting and demoralizing and infuriating.
But we're still here. Battered, maybe. Tired, definitely. But here. And that matters.
2026 won't be easy. The midterms will be hard-fought. The attacks on public education will continue. The challenges will be real. But we have something powerful: each other. A community of people who believe that education matters, that democracy matters, that kids matter.
So here's to 2026. May it be the year we start turning this ship around. May it be the year we remember that democracy isn't a spectator sport. May it be the year we fight like hell for the things that matter.
To everyone who supports public education—teachers, parents, students, bloggers, writers, politicians, artists, activists, and everyone in between: Thank you. Your work matters. Your voice matters. You matter.
Let's make 2026 better. Not perfect—let's be realistic—but better. Let's organize, protest, vote, communicate, and support each other. Let's be the generation that refused to let democracy die on our watch.
Let's do this. Together.
Happy New Year, education warriors. Now let's get to work.
P.S. If you made it through this entire article, congratulations! You have the attention span and stamina of a teacher grading essays at 11 PM on a Sunday. You're going to do great in 2026.
P.P.S. Seriously, though—register to vote, help others register, and mark those midterm election dates on your calendar now. Democracy depends on it.
P.P.P.S. And maybe buy a teacher some supplies. Or coffee. Teachers run on coffee and sheer determination, and the coffee budget is always the first thing to go.
Now go forth and make some good trouble in 2026. John Lewis would be proud.
