“So, what’s on your turntable?”
That question was a daily gift during my final year of teaching at Bedford High School. It came from my colleague and kindred spirit, Barry Low, our brilliant music teacher. Barry had a way of showing up with his warmth, wisdom, and that irresistible curiosity for all things music.
Back then, it was 2003. I had a small boombox perched in the corner of my English classroom. CDs were still king, and there was always one queued up and ready to play—usually something from The Beatles, Sinatra, or a little Bossa Nova to soundtrack the morning.
Barry would pop in between classes and ask that now-legendary question: “So, what’s on your turntable?”
Those moments felt like sacred mini-sessions—a spontaneous graduate seminar in music. We riffed on everything from Sergio Mendes to Frank Sinatra to Brazilian jazz. Barry always had a new artist to share, a bootleg CD to lend, or a story that made both of us laugh. My students waiting for class would often catch a glimpse of our camaraderie, and they were drawn in by his wit and warmth.
What Barry didn’t know at the time was how much I needed those check-ins. I was carrying some heavy emotional weight. I’d taken an ethical stand in my department and found myself increasingly isolated. There were days when the silence from others felt deafening. But Barry’s daily drop-ins cut through that fog. His kindness, his curiosity, his way of being present—it all reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
And isn’t that the thing? We never really know what someone is carrying when they walk through the doors of the schoolhouse. But one simple check-in can shift everything.
That’s the lesson Barry gave me—and it’s a lesson that’s stayed with me for over 20 years.
In my last blog post, I shared about being rushed to the hospital after a heart episode that occurred at school. I believe now more than ever in the power of a check-in. A few friends reached out after that moment. Their words, texts, phone calls, and prayers helped guide me back to healing. That experience reminded me again that compassion is not complicated. We just need to ask, “How are you really doing?” And mean it.
We live in an era where emojis and likes are often mistaken for connection. But real connection—life-giving connection—happens when we extend our arm, when we lean in, when we show up. As my good friend Max Pizarro says, “Arm extended.” That phrase carries a quiet power. It’s a posture of empathy. A stance of solidarity. An invitation to belong.
Lauren Kaufman recently wrote, “You don’t have to carry it all alone.” That line struck a deep chord. It reminded me of the invisible loads we all carry and the ways we can lighten each other’s burdens just by being present.
Belonging isn’t just a buzzword—it’s essential. Dr. Susie Wise puts it best in her book Design for Belonging: “Being accepted and invited to participate; being a part of something and having the opportunity to show up as yourself.”
That’s the heart of it. Create spaces where others can show up as themselves. Be the colleague who tunes into others. Be the leader who notices. Be the friend who checks in. Because that’s the gig—that’s the leadership jam that transforms classrooms, staff rooms, and lives.
We are the entry points for belonging. Let’s carry that with purpose and with rhythm.
So, what’s on your turntable today? Maybe it’s kindness. Maybe it’s courage. Maybe it’s simply showing up for someone. Whatever it is, press play and let it echo.
Further Reading:
🎧 Design for Belonging by Dr. Susie Wise — Purchase the book here
📝 Lauren Kaufman’s blog post, “Shine A Light, Share A Load” — Read it here
A Special Note of Gratitude on My Last Blog Post:
A special thanks to for the overwhelming response for my last blog post, “A Principal’s Rebirth: Finding Life, Love, & Leadership Again.” That post came from a deep place in my heart and I am humbled by the outreach many of you shared. I want my words to help others and this post serves a salve for others who are struggling. Please feel free to share that post linked HERE. Mental Health is so important and my hope is that this blog is a support for all who need it. I am here for you and I am glad that the world has you in it.
Leadership Liner Notes: Sean Gaillard 