The Maryland State Education Association is a titan. With annual revenues exceeding $25 million and average employee salaries nearing $200,000, MSEA could afford to fund three full-time teaching positions in rural Garrett County for the cost of one central office salary. That disparity alone says something. While Western Maryland’s educators earn, on average, $16,000 less than their colleagues elsewhere in the state, MSEA has made no visible, forceful effort to close that gap. One could be forgiven for mistaking MSEA for something other than an education association altogether.
Visit the website. Scroll the social media feed. Attend a speech by one of its leaders. MSEA seems to have quietly rebranded itself as the Maryland State Equity Alliance. Today, the most public-facing efforts of the organization revolve around progressive social initiatives — LGBTQIA+ rights, immigration advocacy and diversity mandates that often feel more performative than purposeful. Local affiliates are required to meet “diversity” quotas for officer representation at trainings. But what happens when a region has few minority educators, or when the minority educators themselves aren’t interested in assuming those roles?
This isn’t just poor planning. It exposes a deeper fracture. MSEA has, whether intentionally or not, alienated the very educators it’s supposed to serve in rural, politically conservative counties. The question we should be asking isn’t whether MSEA is too progressive or too partisan — it’s whether MSEA sees those teachers at all.
In theory, advocacy for public education should transcend party lines. In practice, it doesn’t. MSEA is so ideologically tethered to the Democratic Party that Gov. Wes Moore has allowed its leaders to help shape state education policy. Consider the implications: An organization that reflexively defends underperforming teachers also wields influence over how future educators are trained and held accountable. That’s not advocacy — it’s entropy.
This entanglement with partisan politics raises a serious question: Is it ethical? Maybe not. But it is, in many ways, inevitable. The incentives are too strong. With a steady stream of member dues plus PAC donations, MSEA funnels money toward candidates on the far left. First comes fundraising. Then comes appeasing activist coalitions. Then comes internal enrichment. And somewhere near the bottom of the hierarchy is a fading commitment to teachers and classrooms.
That order of operations might be palatable in urban and suburban counties. But in rural communities, it lands like a gut punch. In places where churches outnumber gender clinics and guidance counselors double as athletic coaches, MSEA’s messaging feels alien. Rural teachers — who desperately need liability coverage — are left with a painful choice: pay dues to an association they no longer trust or go without protection. Many choose the former, and many feel trapped.
The inequity deepens with logistics. MSEA’s events — trainings, conferences, conventions — are always held hours away from Maryland’s westernmost counties. While suburban teachers can commute to a meeting and be home for dinner, rural affiliates must book hotels, rent vehicles, and use up personal days just to sit in a room where they are often outnumbered and politically outshouted. Meanwhile, their urban colleagues — often earning $20,000 more annually — enjoy a system built to accommodate them.
The financial structure is no more forgiving. While some local associations boast thousands of members and six-figure reserves, smaller affiliates scrape by. MSEA’s expectations, however, don’t scale. Dues are fixed. Travel is required. And a teacher earning under $60,000 can ill afford to hand over $400 a year for an organization that seems more concerned with rainbow banners than reading scores.
All the while, MSEA doubles down. More emphasis on representation. More training on gender identity. More progressive endorsements. And less time spent addressing rural concerns: low pay, long commutes and increasing behavioral challenges in the classroom.
Fortunately, rural educators are beginning to explore new paths. Private, nonpartisan agencies now offer comparable legal protections for a fraction of MSEA’s cost. Some even exceed the coverage provided by traditional unions. Their mission is refreshingly straightforward: serve teachers, not politics. At one-third the cost, that promise is beginning to resonate.
Every teacher who leaves MSEA chips away at its funding. It may take time for the organization to notice. But it will notice. The real question is how MSEA will respond. Will it dismiss the trend as a conspiracy cooked up by “backwoods conservatives”? Or will it reckon with a hard truth: that it has drifted too far from its core mission?
In the end, teachers join unions for protection, support and advocacy — not politics. MSEA was once a champion for all Maryland educators. It still could be. But only if it learns to listen to voices outside the Beltway and beyond the echo chamber.
Because in places like Garrett County, the message is loud and clear: We are here, we are working hard, and we are being left behind.
Jeremy Gosnell is a resident of Garrett County and an advocate for rural teachers.
