The Applause We Don’t Hear

#PrincipalLinerNotes

There are moments in leadership—more than we care to admit—when it feels like leadership isn’t there for you.

You stand in a room and no one greets you. No one looks up. No one notices.

You offer ideas, vision, care—and it’s met with silence, or worse, indifference.

You give your best self and sometimes receive no acknowledgment in return.

The gig is tough. The gig is lonely. The gig will ask you to keep showing up, especially when the room grows quiet. And sometimes, it stays quiet.

And yet—we still walk in.

Why?

Because we’re human.

Because we crave meaning.

Because we want to belong just like anyone else.

I carry what my father taught me in these moments: Hold your head high. Even when no one seems to see you. Especially then.

And so, I look for the small things.

The fleeting glances. The quiet nods. The invisible applause.

Those moments when you know—deep in your gut—that you’re still in the groove.

I remember those moments when I played in bands. We’d be deep into a tune, and someone across the band space would catch my eye and offer a knowing smile. Just a look. A small moment that said, We’ve got this.

There’s a video I love of the Dave Brubeck Quartet performing Take Five. During Joe Morello’s legendary drum solo, Brubeck stops playing. He turns from the piano—not to take center stage, but to watch. To admire. To honor. No words. Just presence.

The Beatles did it, too. During that final rooftop concert, even amid the tension, they stole glances. Smiles. They saw each other. And they saw Billy Preston, too—playing keys right alongside them, lifting the sound, lifting the moment.

Even as the world watched from the streets below, the real audience wasn’t the crowd down there—it was amidst the band.

That’s what keeps me going in leadership—the small, true things.

A student’s unexpected smile.

A teacher’s thank-you whispered in the hallway.

A quiet moment where someone sees you—and maybe, just maybe, you see them too.

We may not always receive the applause. But we can give it.

We can be the nod.

We can be the smile.

We can be the Dave Brubeck who turns his head in full admiration.

We can be the Beatle who shares a grin in the middle of the chaos.

Those small moves? They matter.

They are leadership.

And when the room is quiet—lead anyway.

You never know who might be listening for your cue.