“This Is Fine”, An Education Story: Notes from the Charred Remains of Federal Oversight

If you know me personally, it will not shock you that I’m following the federal government’s decisions on education very closely. 
If you speak with me routinely, it will not shock you that I’ve dedicated an entire post to funding mechanisms for public education.
If you don’t know me at all— thanks for getting this far, shocked or not.

The Dismantling

As you may know, On March 20, 2025, Trump signed signed an executive order directing Education Secretary Linda McMahon to begin dismantling the U.S. Department of Education. (And, yes, that Linda McMahon—former WWE executive and wife of the guy who made folding chairs to the face a business model—is now in charge of dismantling public education. So if this feels like a setup for a steel cage match between equity and chaos, you’re not wrong.)

The administration argues that closing the department would allow children and parents to escape a failing system and return control of education to states and local communities.

However, fully abolishing the department requires congressional approval, making complete closure unlikely without legislative action. 

Critics- including the National Education Association- warn that dismantling the department could harm vulnerable students by reducing resources, increasing class sizes, and weakening civil rights protections.

What does this mean for states?

Let’s start with the obvious: diminished civil rights protections and further disenfranchisement of vulnerable populations.

States where public education relies on federal funding formulas to supplement state and district budgets will be especially screwed. That’s because the federal slice isn’t evenly distributed—it’s targeted, often making up 15–20% of the budget in high-poverty districts. Sometimes more. And because the alternative to formula funding is state funding, local funding, or block grants.

And not all funding is created equal.

Think of it this way: Federal education funding is like a fire hose aimed at schools most in need.
Block grants? They’re more like handing everyone the same cup of water and hoping all the fires are the same size.

Aspect Block Grants Federal Categorical Grants
Flexibility High – local control Low – must follow specific rules
Based on Need No – same amount per student Yes – targeted to specific populations (e.g., low-income)
Accountability Less rigorous reporting High – must meet federal guidelines
Adjustable Funding No – fixed amount Often adjusts based on demographics/data
Risk in Funding Gaps High – doesn’t scale with student needs Lower – more responsive to need

One of these is how you build equity. The other is how you pretend you tried.

https://tinysliceofhell.com

Feel the Buuuurn

So, who’s standing closest to the fire?

States like Mississippi, Alabama, and South Dakota—where public education budgets rely heavily on federal aid—will get scorched first. These states often serve high concentrations of low-income students, English learners, and students with disabilities, and they depend on targeted federal programs to meet even basic educational standards.

But don’t get too comfortable, New Hampshire or any of these other states, with limited or special income tax situations: Alaska, Florida, Nevada, South Dakota, Texas, Washington, Wyoming and Tennessee- I’m looking at you. Holding a dixie cup of federal relief, instead of a firehose.

States like NH, where local property taxes do the heavy lifting and federal funds make up a smaller slice, won’t be spared either. Why? Because those federal dollars, while smaller in proportion, are still the only part of the system designed for equity. They’re the only funds that come with rules saying, “Hey, you actually have to spend this on the kids who need it most.”

Here’s how the funding breakdown plays out in a few representative states:

Hope You Packed Your Flame-Retardant Jammies

Currently, federal education grants are like one of those heavy fire blankets you can cower under—awkward, yes, but generally effective at preventing you from burning to death. They come with oversight, accountability, and rules that make sure states and districts don’t just take the money and run.

One of those rules is called Maintenance of Effort (MOE). It basically says:
“You can’t gut your own education budget and then expect federal money to fill in the gap.”

MOE requires states and districts to prove they’re maintaining consistent levels of local and state funding before federal dollars are released. It’s not perfect, but it’s one of the last things standing between vulnerable students and total budgetary abandonment.

Now enter block grants.

Under a block grant system, the big, smothering fire blanket gets swapped out for a pair of flame-retardant pajamas—you know the ones. Something that technically counts as protection, but isn’t stopping anyone from catching fire if things really go south.

When the federal fire watch is gone

Beyond the money, the U.S. Department of Education does something most people never think about until it’s gone: it protects students’ civil rights.

It’s the federal referee that steps in when schools:

  • Discriminate against students with disabilities
  • Fail to provide language access for English learners
  • Ignore the educational rights of homeless or migrant children
  • Engage in racially discriminatory practices
  • Deny students their legal rights under IDEA, Title IX, Title VI, or Section 504

When the Department of Education goes up in smoke, so does the office that investigates those violations. And in its place? Vibes. Maybe a block grant. Possibly a really strongly worded letter from your state department—if you’re lucky.

The Department’s enforcement arm, the Office for Civil Rights (OCR), currently fields thousands of complaints a year—many from parents and students who have nowhere else to turn.

And let’s not pretend this is a new idea.

During Trump’s first term, the OCR wasn’t eliminated—it was hollowed out. Investigations slowed. Staff was cut. Obama-era protections for transgender students and racial equity in discipline were rolled back. Title IX enforcement was reshaped. The sign stayed on the door, but the work was quietly gutted.

If the Department is fully dismantled, we’re not just losing oversight—we’re losing the illusion that anyone’s even pretending to care. Removing the Department of Education doesn’t just shrink a bureaucracy—it removes the backstop for kids who already have the least power in the system. No blanket, no jammies.

This Is Not Fine

Let’s recap:

The federal government wants out.
The fire hose of targeted funding? Replaced with a dixie cup and a shrug.
The rules that kept states honest? Gone.
The office that enforced civil rights? Hollowed out once already—now possibly gone for good.
The most vulnerable kids in our public schools? Left to make do with “flexibility.”

And in place of all that?
Block grants.
Because nothing says equity like a flat dollar amount and a prayer.

Let’s be clear: block grants and local control are not inherently evil. But in a system built on deep, structural inequity, they are woefully insufficient—and in the absence of federal guardrails, they are dangerous.

Local control without federal oversight is just a race to see who cuts the deepest without consequences.

If we let this happen—if we pretend this is just bureaucracy shrinking and not a deliberate attempt to gut the last threads of accountability in public education—we’re complicit.

So no, this is not fine.
But you knew that already.

What Can We Do?

  • Contact Your Representatives: Reach out to your senators and congressional representatives to express your concerns about these changes. Personal stories and data highlighting the potential negative impacts can be powerful.​
  • Support Advocacy Groups: Organizations like the National Education Association (NEA) and the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) are actively working to combat these changes. Supporting their efforts amplifies your voice.​
  • Stay Informed and Mobilize: Educate your community about these issues. Host discussions, share information on social media, and encourage others to take action.​

In the next Tiny Slice of Hell:

  • Special Education & Nutrition Programs → moving to Health & Human Services (HHS)
  • Federal Student Loans → moving to the Small Business Administration (SBA)

These moves were part of Trump’s March 2025 executive order to dismantle the Department of Education—and they raise huge questions about oversight, expertise, and whether student support is being replaced with business strategy.

Questions? Comments? Emotional Outbursts?

Leave a comment, hit me with an email! hello@tinysliceofhell.com

Sources and further reading (because facts matter):

Trump’s Executive Order to Dismantle the U.S. Department of Education:

Plans to Shift Student Loans to SBA & Special Education/Nutrition to HHS:

Federal Education Funding & Block Grant Comparison:

Maintenance of Effort (MOE):

Federal vs. State vs. Local School Funding Data:

Civil Rights Enforcement via OCR:

Survey Says: You’re All Just as Weird as I Hoped

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I have a propensity toward exploring the ridiculous. If you answered my survey, chances are high that you know me personally and the chances are even higher that you can probably attest to this with real life accounts. I believe more than a few of you witnessed this garden bloom in my early teens and it fills my heart with joy that you continue to humor me with ridiculousness such as this.

It confirms my belief that we are still willing to go down the rabbit hole here and there so why not start with the holidays? Because, let’s face it, the holidays are exhausting. Between glitter explosions, gift-giving Olympics, and the annual debate over whether Mariah Carey should be banned until December 24th, it’s enough to make anyone crave a mental escape.
So, I turned to you, my loyal snark enthusiasts, and asked: What should we think about instead? And wow, did you deliver.

The Breakdown

Talking Animals & Time Travel:
The people have spoken: a whopping 25 of you want to hear our pets roast us for being late with dinner. And time travel? Apparently, 25 of you are ready to screw up the space-time continuum as long as you don’t miss the bus.

Tiny Dinosaur Arms:
Who knew tiny dinosaur arms would spark so much joy? 21 of you clearly enjoy picturing prehistoric creatures failing miserably at modern tasks. Honestly, relatable.

Cereal Mascots:
A healthy 17 votes came in for this one. And you know what that says? You’ve got trust issues, and I respect that. From Tony the Tiger’s suspiciously upbeat vibes to Snap, Crackle, and Pop acting like they’ve never done a shady deal, it’s about time someone asked the hard questions. These sugar-coated con artists have been dodging accountability for decades, and you’re finally ready to blow the lid off.

Vanishing Socks:
Coming in hot with 16 votes, the mystery plagues about half of us. Socks disappearing in the dryer is the Bermuda Triangle of domestic life, and you want answers. Are they forming their own society? Have they simply had enough? Are they unionizing? Either way, your obsession is noted.

A whimsical and humorous scene featuring mismatched socks standing upright and holding signs that depict their missing matches. Each sock is vibrantly colored and uniquely patterned, such as polka dots, stripes, and bold designs. The signs, handwritten and creatively styled, show images or sketches of the missing socks with phrases like 'Have you seen me?' or 'Missing: My other half.' The socks are displayed in a cozy living room setting with a soft carpet and laundry scattered around. The lighting is warm, adding to the playful and charming mood. Highly detailed textures, vibrant colors, and expressive signs bring the scene to life.

American Cheese:
Liquid happiness, a secret government experiment, or just best left unexamined? Most of you wisely opted for blissful ignorance. Good call. For the nine of you convinced it’s a secret government experiment and the seven who believe it’s liquid happiness, I admire your optimism

Zombie Apocalypse: Ah, the zombie apocalypse: the ultimate stress test. A majority of you are apparently prepping for your action hero debut, ready to grab a shotgun and go full Walking Dead. Respect. Meanwhile, 11 of you ‘sort of’ have a plan, which I assume involves haphazardly Googling survival tips at the last minute. And then there’s the lone visionary who plans to face the apocalypse by binge-watching zombie flicks—because, sure, nothing inspires survival skills quite like Shaun of the Dead.

Ice Cream Sandwiches: Apparently, the mystery of why ice cream sandwiches don’t melt is too existential for most of you—21 of you said, ‘Nope, not thinking about it.’ Fair. Fourteen of you believe they’re ‘made of magic,’ and honestly, I’m with you on that. But let’s give a nod to the few who chose science—you’re probably out there conducting experiments with hairdryers and half-eaten sandwiches. Respect the hustle.

What about the other three questions, you ask?

Well, for absurd questions, turns out that with a rating of 7.6 out of 10, most of you enjoy life’s absurdities, like like why tiny dinosaur arms couldn’t fold laundry. A few of you probably rolled your eyes and gave it a 2, but that’s okay. Not everyone can handle the intellectual rigor of asking whether cats are secretly plotting our downfall.

The real MVPs of curiosity: random facts. You gave this an average of 8.3, proving that nothing delights you more than useless trivia. What do you do with this knowledge? Probably annoy your friends with ‘Did you know?’ moments at parties. Keep it up; the world needs more people like you—especially when there’s a lull in conversation.

When it comes to unanswerable mysteries, 23 of you dabble occasionally—probably when you’re bored or waiting for your coffee to brew. Six of you are full-on obsessed. You’re the ones losing sleep over whether your American cheese could double as a viable weapon for the zombie apocalypse. Meanwhile, two people gave a hard pass. Fair enough, not everyone wants to spend their time arguing over whether a hot dog is a sandwich.

And there you have it—your wonderfully weird thoughts laid bare. From talking animals to time-traveling buses, and the eternal quest to figure out where socks go, you’ve proven that holiday distractions come in all shapes and sizes (and arm lengths, apparently). So, the next time you’re stuck in a tinsel-induced meltdown, just remember: there’s a world of absurdity waiting to be pondered. Now, go forth and argue with your cat about their secret plans. You’re welcome.

A lifelike digital painting of three unique anthropomorphic cereal mascots and friendly zombies interacting in a chaotic city street. The mascots include a tiger with orange and black stripes wearing a blue bandana, a tropical bird with vibrant plumage, and a leprechaun-like figure with red hair and a green outfit. All of them, along with the zombies, are holding cereal bowls filled with colorful cereal. The mascots are playfully teasing fleeing humans, with the tiger pointing and laughing at a terrified human, the bird flapping its wings mischievously, and the leprechaun tossing cereal pieces toward the crowd. The zombies look quirky and non-threatening, smiling warmly as they join in the fun. The background depicts a chaotic cityscape with overturned cars, tilted lampposts, damaged storefronts, and panicked humans running in all directions. Lighting combines warm tones on the mascots with eerie green glows around the zombies, creating a surreal and humorous atmosphere.

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What are we baking up, you ask? What sort of slice am I about to be served? Fresh snark, friend. Each blog, a slice of exploration into the funny, messy and sometimes profound realities of everyday life. I explore topics that connect personal experiences to larger themes—like what failure says about being human or how generational quirks shape our world. Through humor, of course, and curiosity, I aim to uncover the stories and insights that resonate with all of us. Whether it’s dissecting life’s small disasters or finding meaning in the chaos, the blog is about celebrating the fiery edge of normalcy.

Got a Story or Idea? Let’s Hear It!

Tiny Slice of Hell isn’t just about my take on the world—it’s about the stories we all share. Got a topic you think deserves a deep dive, a funny story that needs telling, or a question that’s been nagging at you? I’d love to hear it.

Whether it’s a small observation with big implications or a peek at the weird and wild, your ideas could spark the next great post. Drop me a line in the comments or send me an email at hello@tinysliceofhell.com !