Teacher Refuses to Quit Job Just So Nephew Can Attend Her School

“Imagine working in your dream job every day and then your sister-in-law asks you to give it all up so her son can attend your school.”

That’s exactly where this special-needs teacher finds himself. He teaches students aged 12+ in the Netherlands, specialising in autism. He loves the school, the students, the work. It truly feels like his calling.

His nephew – highly intelligent, on the autism spectrum- needs a supportive high-school environment and the nearest one that offers the right level (Havo/Vwo) is the school where he teaches.

But there’s a rule: staff cannot teach their own family members at that school. That means if the nephew attends, the teacher must quit or the nephew must go elsewhere (an hour commute by taxi).

His sister-in-law demands he quit so her son can have the spot. He declines because his career means that much. Now tensions flare, accusations fly, and he wonders if he’s the [jerk].

Now, read the full story:

My heart aches a little for both sides. I see a teacher who loves his job deeply and who has carved out a meaningful role in supporting students with autism. I see a nephew who deserves the right environment for his gifted mind and unique needs. And I see a family rift tearing open because of a rule, a commute, a feeling of favouritism and misunderstanding.

The teacher’s position makes sense: he cannot hand over his career because of a family request and a policy he probably didn’t make. The sister-in-law’s frustration also makes sense: her son’s future is on the line, and the solution right next door seems blocked. This is a conflict about work, rules, family loyalty, fairness, and needing to choose between self-fulfilment and kin duty.

In this story the teacher’s dream job and his nephew’s educational future collide. The core issue isn’t just “Should he quit?” but “How do we reconcile vocational fulfilment, family loyalty, institutional policy, and the child’s wellbeing?”

Rules that prevent teachers from having relatives at the same school often exist to guard against conflicts of interest, favoritism, and nepotism. A paper on relatives working in the same academic faculty explains:

“The study’s findings do not rule out the existence of nepotism… but do highlight the need for transparent policies when family overlaps institutional roles.”

So the school’s rule appears legitimate: it ensures fairness among students, avoids blur of roles, and protects both teacher and institution. In this case, the teacher cannot simply become the nephew’s educator, that would breach the policy and possibly disadvantage other students.

For the nephew, accessing the right high school (Havo/Vwo level plus autism-specialist environment) is pivotal. The fact that the only nearby suitable school is one hour away by taxi – uncommon in the Netherlands – magnifies the trade-off.

The burden of commute for a teenager with autism can impact fatigue, social integration, and academic performance. The sister-in-law’s argument rests on the practical: “If your school is best for him, why make him travel?” But the teacher cannot override institutional policy without serious personal cost.

Psychological theory around career identity emphasizes that work can form a major part of one’s self-concept. Quitting a dream job can lead to regret, lost identity, and resentment.

Simultaneously, family systems theory says that families expect mutual support and often assume that offering help to kin is non-negotiable. Here the teacher is forced to choose: support nephew’s education at cost to his career, or maintain his role and face accusations of selfishness.

Advice: Finding a path through the tension

• Open a formal discussion with school leadership. The teacher should bring the nephew’s case to the management to explore exceptions, partial accommodations, or whether he can work in a non-class contact role so nephew could attend without him teaching him directly.

• Engage with the sister-in-law collaboratively. Rather than framing it as “I won’t quit,” shift to “Let’s explore all viable options for your son together, and I’ll support what I can.” That may reduce conflict.

• Consider the merit of the other school. While a one-hour commute is burdensome, remote or shared taxis may be arranged. Also, what is the quality difference between the nearby school and his own? If the nephew can thrive at the second school with transport support, the career impact on the teacher lessens.

• Protect the professional identity while offering support. The teacher can mentor the nephew informally (outside school), provide guidance, help with applications, liaise with the second school, demonstrate involvement without quitting his job.

• Prepare for long-term family dynamic. If the sister-in-law continues to insist on him quitting, the rift could widen. Setting clear boundaries, yet showing good will, may help preserve relationships beyond this crisis.

Ultimately the story is about competing legitimate needs: the teacher’s right to his vocation and environment, and the nephew’s right to appropriate high school placement. The policy adds complexity—it is not simply personal choice, but institutional regulation.

If the teacher can stay in his role and still support nephew’s future in a creative way, that may be the fairest solution. He doesn’t have to choose between “help” and “job” in an either/or sense. The core message: support doesn’t always mean sacrifice; boundaries don’t always mean abandonment.

Check out how the community responded:

Team NTA: He’s not the [jerk] for prioritising his career.

Side note: Some say the situation is sad all around.

In the end, this isn’t simply about refusing to help a nephew, it’s about balancing professional identity, institutional constraints, and family obligation. The teacher’s unwavering stance on keeping his job is understandable and fair.

The sister-in-law’s urgency on behalf of her son is also understandable and valid. The missing piece: a cooperative solution that honours both.

Would you ask someone to quit their dream job for a family member’s benefit? Or would you expect flexibility within the system instead of sacrifice? How might you redesign the rule so it supports children without forcing carers to give up their vocation?