What If Staying Is the Real Risk?

Rethinking the Sunk Cost Fallacy

"I've invested so much to get here. I can't just walk away now."

"I've been doing this for fifteen years. What else would I do?"

"Everyone will think I've failed if I quit."

If any of these thoughts have crossed your mind when considering leaving teaching, you're not alone. And you're definitely not being irrational. You've fallen into one of the most powerful psychological traps that exists: the sunk cost fallacy.

What Is the Sunk Cost Fallacy?

The sunk cost fallacy is our tendency to continue investing in something because we've already invested so much, even when continuing no longer serves us. It's the reason we sit through terrible films because we've paid for the ticket, finish meals we're not enjoying because we don't want to waste food, and yes, stay in careers that are burning us out because we've "come this far."

In teaching, this shows up everywhere. You've spent years training. You've invested in qualifications. You've given countless evenings to planning and marking. You've poured your heart and soul into your classroom. The thought of walking away from all of that feels like throwing it all in the bin, doesn't it?

But here's the thing: the real question isn't whether you can afford to "throw away" your teaching background. It's whether you can afford to stay somewhere that is draining you, depleting you, and potentially damaging your health and wellbeing.

Why Teachers Are Especially Vulnerable

Teaching isn't just a job. To us, it’s often a vocation, an identity, even a calling. This makes the sunk cost fallacy even more powerful for teachers considering career change. Let's explore why we fall so hard for it - and more importantly, what the sunk cost fallacy isn't telling you.

"It's All I've Ever Known"

What sunk cost tells you: Change is too risky. Stay where you are, even if it's not working.

The truth: At some point, teaching was new to you too. You learned it. You mastered it. That ability to learn and adapt hasn't disappeared just because you've been doing one thing for a while.

When teaching is your entire professional identity, the idea of doing something else can feel terrifying. This is commitment bias at work. We're wired to want things to stay the same, even when they're not working for us anymore. Change feels risky. The familiar, even when it's painful, feels safer than the unknown.

But your capacity for learning something new hasn't vanished - it's actually grown stronger through all your teaching experience.

"What If It Doesn't Work Out?"

What sunk cost tells you: The imagined risk of leaving is worse than the real damage of staying.

The truth: Staying somewhere that's burning you out is the actual risk to your health, relationships, and wellbeing.

Research in behavioural psychology shows that we're far more worried about potential losses than we are excited about potential gains. This is called loss aversion, and it's incredibly powerful. We'll stay in situations that are actively harmful to us because the possibility of something going wrong elsewhere feels more frightening than the reality of what's going wrong right now.

This is your brain trying to protect you, but it's working with faulty logic. It's weighing a certain negative (your current situation) against an imagined catastrophe (your future), and somehow the imagined catastrophe feels scarier.

"Won't Everyone Think I'm a Failure?"

What sunk cost tells you: Quitting means you've failed. Real professionals persevere.

The truth: Recognising that something no longer serves you and having the courage to change course isn't failure - it's wisdom.

We live in a culture that glorifies perseverance and grit. "Quitters never win," we're told. But there's a massive difference between giving up when things get difficult and making a conscious, brave decision to walk away from something that's no longer right for you.

The fear of judgment is real, but here's a gentle truth: most people are far too busy worrying about their own lives to spend much time judging yours. And the ones who do judge? They're usually projecting their own fears about change onto you.

"I Don't Want to Have Wasted My Time"

What sunk cost tells you: All those years will have been for nothing if you leave.

The truth: Every skill you've developed, every challenge you've navigated, every lesson you've learned - these are assets you're taking with you, not time wasted.

This is the sunk cost fallacy in its purest form. The more time we've invested in something, the harder it feels to walk away. Ten years feels harder to "waste" than five. Twenty feels impossible.

But here's what this thinking gets wrong: your time in teaching hasn't been wasted. Not even slightly. Every moment you've made a difference, every skill you've honed, everything you've learned about yourself - these are all building blocks for what comes next. They're not chains binding you to a career that's depleting you.

You haven't wasted your time. You've been building a foundation. The question is: what do you want to build on it next?

"I Think It Will Get Better"

What sunk cost tells you: Just hold on a bit longer. Next term, next year, it'll improve.

The truth: If you've been telling yourself "it will get better" for months or years and it hasn't, that's important information about your situation.

False hope is a particularly cruel aspect of the sunk cost fallacy. We tell ourselves that next term will be better, or once this cohort leaves, or when that difficult colleague retires, or after the new leadership settles in.

Sometimes things do improve. But if you've been waiting for that improvement for a long time and it keeps not arriving, that's data. That's your situation telling you something you need to hear.

Hope is beautiful, but it shouldn't be the only thing keeping you somewhere that's harming you.

"Walking Away Is Going to Hurt"

What sunk cost tells you: The pain of leaving will be unbearable. Better to stay with the pain you know.

The truth: You're already hurting. The difference is that the pain of leaving is temporary growth discomfort, while the pain of staying is chronic.

Loss aversion tricks us here too. Our brains are convinced that the pain of leaving will be worse than the pain of staying. We imagine the grief, the guilt, the uncertainty, the discomfort of starting something new, and we think: "I can't handle that."

But the exhaustion, the Sunday night dread, the sense that you're not yourself anymore - that's pain too. And it's ongoing, persistent pain. The pain of leaving is the discomfort of growth, not the ache of staying stuck.

Reframing Your Investment

So how do we break free from the sunk cost fallacy? It starts with reframing.

Your years in teaching aren't something you're abandoning. They're the foundation for your next chapter. You've developed skills that many career changers would envy: communication, organisation, adaptability, resilience, empathy, the ability to think on your feet, to manage competing demands, to explain complex ideas simply.

You're not starting from scratch. You're pivoting with a toolkit.

Outgrowing something doesn't diminish its value. It simply means you're ready for what comes next. You can honour what teaching has given you while also acknowledging that it's time to move on. Both things can be true at once.

Your past investment in teaching doesn't obligate you to a future of unhappiness. Sometimes the bravest, most self-aware thing we can do is recognise that what once felt right no longer fits. And that's not just okay - it's healthy.

Moving Forward

Career change isn't just about getting another job. It's a psychological journey, and understanding how your own mind might trip you up is crucial. The sunk cost fallacy is powerful, but it's not insurmountable. Awareness is the first step.

If you're feeling trapped by everything you've invested in teaching, know that you're not alone in this. The path from teaching to something new is well-trodden, and there are people who understand both the psychology of the transition and the practical steps to make it happen.

You've had an amazing impact on students, parents, colleagues. You've built a career to be proud of. And now? Now it might be time to make a change for yourself and your family. Not because teaching was wrong, but because you're ready for what's next.

That's more than okay. That's growth.

If the sunk cost fallacy has you feeling stuck in teaching, our Adventures After Teaching Academy is designed to support you through both the psychological and practical aspects of career change. Because moving on from teaching is about so much more than just finding another job.

Categories: : Psychology of Career Change