gratitude

A Postcard, A Drumbeat, and A Leadership Move: Building a Culture of Belonging

smgaillard Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Earlier this week, Beatles fans around the world commemorated the 56th anniversary of their final live performance—the legendary rooftop concert atop Apple Records. Captured in Get Back and memorialized in Let It Be, this moment was their live swan song, a testament to creative courage and collaboration.

Last week, I wrote about Rooftop Moments—the bold, defining moments that school leaders should cultivate with their teams. But there’s another, lesser-known moment in Beatles history that happened the day after that performance. A simple yet profound leadership move.

On January 31, 1969, Paul McCartney sent Ringo Starr a postcard that read:

“You are the greatest drummer in the world. Really.”

This wasn’t a public accolade or a grand gesture. It was a handwritten note—one musician reaching out to another, reinforcing connection and belonging. A small moment, but a significant one.

As school leaders, we talk about culture-building, trust, and recognition. Shoutouts in memos or emails are a start, but I’ve come to realize they often feel transactional, fleeting. Teachers deserve more than a quick mention in a newsletter that might be skimmed and forgotten. True belonging is built in the quiet, intentional moments—through handwritten notes and meaningful feedback.

The Power of a Handwritten Note

At Charles England Elementary, we start each faculty meeting with Praise and Thanks—a time to share shoutouts and gratitude. It sets a positive tone and creates psychological safety. But not everyone feels comfortable speaking in a large group, and exhaustion can sometimes make participation hard.

At a recent meeting, I placed blank Energy Bus-themed notes (inspired by Jon Gordon’s book) on tables and asked staff to write a message of gratitude to a colleague. No prompts, no pressure—just a moment to reflect and uplift. As I looked around, I saw teachers smiling, some wiping away tears, completely immersed in the moment. The next day, those notes found their way into mailboxes, and the ripple effect of encouragement began.

A handwritten note isn’t just ink on paper—it’s a tangible reminder that someone sees you. That your work matters. That you belong.

The Leadership Move: 30-Second Feedback

Another way we are reinforcing belonging is through 30-second feedback, a practice inspired by Mike Rutherford’s Seven Tools for Developing Teachers and Teaching (link). This simple but powerful strategy involves stopping into a classroom, identifying one specific positive thing, and sharing that feedback—either verbally or in a quick note.

Here’s what makes it work:

  • It’s not evaluative—just pure affirmation of great teaching.
  • It’s quick but intentional—a handwritten note, a short hallway chat, or a sticky note left on a desk.
  • It highlights strengths—no jargon, no checklist, just celebrating a moment of impact.
  • It builds connection—leaders engaging with teachers in a meaningful way, beyond scheduled observations.

I keep a pocketful of blank Post-its and make it a goal to visit at least three classrooms a day, leaving behind 30-second feedback. It’s transformed how teachers feel about their work. They light up, just like I imagine Ringo did when he read Paul’s postcard.

Four Ways to Build Belonging with Handwritten Notes & 30-Second Feedback

  1. Commit to Daily Touchpoints
    • Visit three teachers a day and leave either a quick verbal or written affirmation.
    • Track your visits to ensure everyone receives meaningful recognition.
  2. Use Specific Praise
    • Instead of “Great lesson!” try: “The way you engaged students in discussion today was fantastic. I could see their excitement!”
    • Authentic, detailed praise carries weight.
  3. Make Handwritten Notes a Habit
    • Keep blank notecards or sticky notes handy.
    • Surprise staff with a handwritten note in their mailbox or taped to their door.
  4. Encourage Peer-to-Peer Recognition
    • Incorporate note-writing into staff meetings or PLCs.
    • Provide postcards or themed templates to make it easy and fun.

A Legacy of Belonging

Think about the impact: just 90 seconds a day dedicated to 30-second feedback builds a culture where teachers feel seen, valued, and empowered. Multiply that over a school year, and you’ve created an environment where trust and belonging flourish.

As Meghan Lawson (link) reminds us in Legacy of Learning, these small wins shape the culture of a school. They’re the moments that keep teachers inspired and engaged.

56 years later, I’m still moved by a simple postcard between bandmates. It reminds me that leadership isn’t always about the big moves—it’s about the small, consistent moments of connection that build something lasting. Just like The Beatles, our legacy as educators is one of collaboration, impact, and belonging.

What’s your next leadership move? Maybe it’s as simple as writing a note.

So Long to The Principal Liner Notes Podcast

smgaillard Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leadership can feel isolating, a reality that can weigh heavily. I’ve often thought of the solitude woven into the journey, wondering how we might transcend it. Over my 17 years as a principal, I’ve felt the weight of those lonely moments—losing connections, facing personal and professional scrutiny, and confronting doubts. Those moments brought a quiet determination to build something that could foster the connection we so often miss in leadership. Thus, The Principal Liner Notes Podcast was born.

When I began the podcast, I recorded episodes solo on my phone, using the Anchor app, talking into the mic about the universal threads between music and leadership. I imagined each episode as a conversation with a fellow leader who needed to hear, “You’re not alone, and your work matters.” Each riff, every anecdote about The Beatles or Miles Davis, was my way of saying, This is for you. Over time, the podcast evolved into a space to build true connections. I began inviting guests I admired, creating what I called “Connected Conversations”—an open invitation to join in reflection and connection.

One of the great joys of the podcast was finding myself with guests who became more than interviewees; they became friends. These were colleagues and mentors from my Professional Learning Network who so generously offered their time, insights, and encouragement. My heartfelt thanks go to each guest who trusted this modest podcast, sharing their stories and making themselves heard. I’ll always treasure those deeply personal conversations, some stretching an hour or two before we even pressed record. These moments of openness and support felt like meeting up at a record store or a quiet coffee shop—creating a space where ideas sparked and spirits connected. I’m profoundly grateful for every guest and for every listener who tuned in, showing up and sharing your thoughts. You were there in those moments, and that connection has left an indelible mark.

I remember my good friend and five-time guest, Lauren Kaufman, perfectly articulating what I hoped the podcast would be: a place to reflect, grow, and connect with others. Her words about the trajectory of the powerful moments we have shared on the podcast have stayed with me, especially as I consider what comes next. She described what I had felt but struggled to express. For that, I’m grateful to her and to every member of my PLN who has taken the time to share an episode, write a note, or repost my reflections. Together, we created a community—one rooted in the idea that each of us, in sharing a piece of ourselves, makes leadership a little less solitary.

This farewell is also a reflection on gratitude. The Principal Liner Notes Podcast was more than a podcast; it was a creative outlet and a chance to share a love of music and leadership. It allowed me to honor the musicians and leaders who have inspired me and to dive into my own passions with renewed enthusiasm. As I step back from this chapter, I’m left with the richness of these experiences, deeply appreciative of the community that has supported me. Maybe these episodes will form the foundation for a future book or a revival of the series one day. Until then, I’m excited to continue exploring new creative paths. Projects like Hope Amplified with my good friend Meghan Lawson, and Chords of Connection, a solo podcast centered on music and storytelling, are on the horizon, and I look forward to seeing where those journeys lead.

The spirit of this transition reminds me of Simon & Garfunkel’s farewell anthem, “So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright,” a tender goodbye from their final album. It’s a nod to the end of an era, yet it carries the anticipation of what lies ahead in their individual creative paths. This podcast, in that same spirit, is about moving forward—grateful for what’s been and inspired for what’s next.

In reflecting on this transition, I’m reminded of the late Tom Snyder and his poignant final episode of Tomorrow. He signed off with dignity and a sense of gratitude that I hope to echo here. With each episode, I tried to foster meaning and connection, and as I bring The Principal Liner Notes Podcast to a close, I leave with the same sense of gratitude and hope for the connections yet to come. My goal is to continue sharing those connections through future podcast projects—and maybe even a new book. These chapters, filled with purpose, leave me deeply thankful for the music, leaders, and each of you who have been part of this journey.

To my listeners, thank you for being there—whether on a morning walk, a drive, or a quiet afternoon. Your choice to press play, to share these reflections, has meant the world. And as I sign off, I leave with this message: “Don’t forget to share your thoughts, words, ideas, and dreams with the world. The world needs them, and YOU make it a better place.”

Thank you for listening, for tuning in, for connecting, and for making leadership a little less lonely.

Explore Episodes of The Principal Liner Notes Podcast
Check out The Pepper Effect