opinion

Superintendent Retires After Heroically Spending Half a Billion Dollars of Your Money

Bastrop ISD Superintendent Barry Edwards announces retirement, leaving behind a legacy of growth, bond debt, and the existential dread of parents who just wanted a shorter car line.

Heather Worthington

By Heather Worthington

Published June 18, 2025 at 6:45pm


In a shocking turn of events that has sent shockwaves through the Bastrop community (or at least the 12 people who still care about school board politics), Superintendent Barry Edwards has announced his retirement. Yes, after seven long years of presiding over the district—and, more importantly, after securing two bond packages that basically turned Bastrop into a construction zone—Edwards is hanging up his administrative hat.

Edwards, who has spent 17 years in the district, called it the "honor of a lifetime," which is what every public servant says right before they flee to a beach house in Florida. His tenure was marked by growth, a word that strikes fear into the hearts of taxpayers everywhere. Under his watch, student enrollment ballooned by 19%, which, let’s be honest, is just code for "more traffic during school pickup." And let’s not forget the real legacy: two bond packages totaling over half a billion dollars. That’s right, folks—Edwards didn’t just build schools, he built monuments to bureaucracy.

But wait, there’s more! Edwards also championed full-day pre-K, because apparently, four-year-olds need to be institutionalized earlier than ever. And he opened a family resource clinic, which we can only assume is where parents go to cry after seeing their property tax bills.

Now, the district must embark on the sacred ritual of hiring a new superintendent—a process that will undoubtedly involve months of board meetings, vague job postings, and at least one candidate who mysteriously withdraws after a scandal involving a questionable Facebook post from 2009.

Meanwhile, Edwards will ride off into the sunset with his $276,826 salary, presumably to take up golf, write a memoir titled Bonds, Babies, and Bureaucracy, or—if he’s really bold—run for city council. Godspeed, Barry. The portable classrooms you left behind will never forget you.