There are albums that arrive in your life right on time. There are also albums that feel as if they have been waiting for you all along.
Neil Diamond’s Gold is that kind of record for me.
It was recorded live at the Troubadour on Santa Monica Boulevard in July of 1970. Just about ten miles away, in Inglewood, I was two months old and brand new to the world. I did not know it then, but something meaningful was happening nearby. A voice was finding its footing. A performer was stepping into himself. A bridge was being built toward what would come next.
I did not discover Gold until my junior year of college. I found it in a used record store in Washington, D.C., sometime around 1990 or 1991. I remember taking it back to my dorm room. I lowered the needle and felt something familiar. It was something I could not yet name. Even then, it sounded like an album caught between chapters. Confident, yet searching. Grounded, yet reaching.
That feeling has only deepened with time.
Gold captures Neil Diamond in a liminal season. He was between record labels. He had experienced success in the 1960s, yet the full arc of his 1970s creative breakthrough had not fully arrived. This was not a greatest hits collection, even though the title suggests one. It was something far more human. It was a document of becoming.
The band matters here. Carol Hunter’s guitar work has a raw edge. It gives the music a sense of forward motion. Her style was shaped by time alongside artists like Bob Dylan. Eddie Rubin’s drumming, informed by deep jazz roots and work with artists like Billie Holiday, brings both restraint and release. Randy Sterling’s bass provides an anchor that allows everything else to breathe. This was a group capable of listening, responding, and taking risks in real time. That truth is audible.
Then there is “Lordy.”
That song feels like a door being pushed open. Gospel-inflected. Theatrical. Unfiltered. It hints at the ambition that would soon fully emerge on Tap Root Manuscript. On this album, “Cracklin’ Rosie” would become Neil Diamond’s first number-one hit. “The African Trilogy” placed on Side 2 of that album would expand his songwriting into something expansive and cinematic. “Lordy” is not the destination. “Lordy” is the signal.
This is why Gold resonates so deeply with me right now.
I find myself in my own in-between season. Years of experience remain present. Familiar structures are loosening their grip. Listening has become more important than certainty. This album reminds me that the middle matters. The bridge is not wasted time. Confidence is often built quietly in rooms that do not yet resemble arenas.
My connection to Gold also brings to mind the film Song Sung Blue. I love that movie deeply. The film is based on the real life story of Mike and Claire Sardina, who form a Neil Diamond tribute band known as Lightning & Thunder. Watching the two main characters played by Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson is profoundly life-affirming. They challenge the impossible until it becomes possible. The film honors persistence, hope, and belief without irony. It treats becoming with dignity. The music performances are truly “so good, so good!”
That same spirit lives inside Gold.
This record honors the becoming.
This post accompanies the latest episode of #LeadershipLinerNotes. In it, I share more about this album and the Troubadour. I explain why this particular season of my life feels so closely tied to it. You can listen to the podcast version here: Spotify/Megaphone:
I would love to know what your Gold has been. Was there an album, moment, or season that met you in the middle? Did it quietly remind you that something meaningful was still unfolding? Please share in the comments. I would love to hear from you.
Sometimes the gold is not found at the beginning. Sometimes the gold is not waiting at the end. Sometimes the gold lives right in the in-between.
During my days in “administrator school,” I was fortunate to have our superintendent, where I was employed as a teacher, instruct one of our courses. The course was Strategic Planning, and I gained much wisdom from his years as a seasoned district leader. The class happened to land on the final day of the semester for our cohort. Looking back, it was a meaningful milestone as it marked the last class on the last day of my entire Master’s in School Administration program.
A moment from that day has stayed with me throughout my career. At the time, I did not realize how deeply it would echo through my leadership journey.
A Moment That Still Resonates
We were wrapping up the final review before exams when our superintendent began to share parting wisdom. I do not know what moved him to do so, but his reflections were powerful. He began to riff on lessons from his own career, weaving together aphorisms, stories, and insights.
Then came the moment I will never forget. He said, “Remember those conversations you had about your principal or even about me after a faculty meeting? Remember those meetings after the meetings where you shared your thoughts about leadership decisions? Maybe you complained and maybe you didn’t. Well, someday soon, you will be the topic of those conversations in the parking lot. How will you respond to that?”
He paused and looked at each of us. The room fell silent. We all sat in the weight of his words.
At the time, those words felt heavy and unsettling. Over the years, I have come to understand their profound truth about leadership and influence.
The Power of the Leadership Echo
All leaders have what I call a leadership echo. This is the way our tone, actions, empathy, and integrity ripple beyond our presence. It is the resonance of the legacy we create for others. Each of us has a leadership echo, and we are the composers of the melody it leaves behind.
Music and the Subtle Notes That Stay
As a lifelong music fan, I am always drawn to the small details in a song that stay with you. One of my favorite moments in music is the bridge of “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles. The sequence of handclaps adds a percussive joy that lingers long after the song ends.
Leadership works the same way. The small, intentional acts: kind word, a listening ear, a thoughtful pause before reacting—create lasting harmony. They resonate across classrooms and communities.
I still remember the high five I received from my principal after he observed my American Literature class. I was teaching “Richard Cory” and playing Simon and Garfunkel’s musical version. That simple gesture not only encouraged me, but I could see my students respond to it, too. It was a cool moment, one that continues to echo for me.
Echoes in Action
Leadership echoes take many forms. A leader checking in on a struggling teacher. A principal celebrating small wins during a tough week. A colleague modeling grace under pressure. A teacher calling home to share a moment of student success.
These gestures may seem small, but they often become the stories others tell later. When we amplify these positive echoes, they build the shared culture that defines our schools.
Hearing the Unflattering Echo
Sometimes, the echoes we hear are not flattering. Thinking back to what my superintendent said that day, leaders will always be the subject of conversation. Those conversations are sometimes positive and sometimes not.
As leaders, we must approach those moments with reflection, not fear. Even when the echo is critical, it can still reveal purpose and integrity. I recently reviewed survey data about my leadership. Some of it stung, but I chose to use it as a mirror for growth rather than a judgment.
Listening to your leadership echo takes humility and curiosity. It is an opportunity to grow, not to defend.
Three Ways to Strengthen Your Leadership Echo
Here are three reflective strategies for tuning your leadership echo into a source of growth and impact:
Tune Your Tone: Pause before responding. Speak as if your words might echo in someone’s memory tomorrow.
Play Small Notes Loud: Celebrate micro moments with either a handwritten note, a hallway check-in, or a quick “thank you.” Small gestures can carry great resonance.
Listen for Resonance: Ask for feedback, reflect often, and be open to what comes back, even when it is uncomfortable.
The Last Chord
Just like the handclaps in “Here Comes the Sun,” your leadership will ring on long after you have turned the page to a new chapter. Think of the final chord in “A Day in the Life” by The Beatles. It sustains, fades, and lingers with an unforgettable sound that carries on long after the needle travels off the record.
Leadership is the same way. The decisions we make, the tone we set, and the kindness we extend all continue to reverberate through others long after we leave the room. Every word, action, and choice becomes part of our echo.
Each of us has the power to shape what that echo sounds like. We can choose to create an echo that uplifts, inspires, and builds others. The more we lead with intention, empathy, and grace, the more beautiful that resonance becomes.
My father often reminded me to lead with humility and to hold my head high. His words, much like that chord in “A Day in the Life,” continue to echo in my life and in my leadership.
May your echo be one of kindness, courage, and grace. May it be the kind that reminds others of the good they carry within. And may it continue to resonate long after the music fades.
One More Thing
This reflection is part of my ongoing Leadership Liner Notes blog, where I explore the harmony between music and leadership. The idea of the leadership echo reminds me that every interaction carries a note of influence, just like every chord in a great song contributes to the melody.
As I continue to write and learn, I’m inspired by the small moments that form the soundtrack of leadership. Every conversation, every decision, and every high five in the hallway becomes part of the echo we leave behind.
If this reflection resonates with you, share your own leadership echo story on social media using #LeadershipRiffs and #LeadershipLinerNotes, and tag me in your post. Let’s keep the conversation. and the echoes going.
There is a phrase I keep coming back to: the impossible becomes possible.
Recently, I had another health scare that resulted in a visit to the hospital. I am alright and recuperating, but in the days that followed, I found myself searching for something to hold onto. A remix of a Beatles reunion song sent me on a journey to re-embrace hope and belief.
When The Beatles broke up in 1970, the world declared it over. Headlines announced the end of the most influential band of all time. In the years that followed, reunion rumors surfaced constantly, often fueled by money, charity, or fan speculation. Yet, The Beatles remained steadfast: no reunion. Even after John Lennon’s senseless murder in 1980, people still asked if the three surviving members might somehow return, with John’s sons stepping in. It seemed impossible.
And yet in 1995, a demo tape of John Lennon’s rough home recording was dusted off. With the steady guidance of Jeff Lynne, Paul, George, and Ringo added their voices and instruments. Out of grief, absence, and fractured history came something astonishing: “Free As A Bird.”
For me, it was a moment of awe. I was a young teacher then, two years into my career. When I read a small article about the surviving Beatles reuniting for Anthology, I ran off copies for every teacher’s mailbox in my school. I wanted everyone to feel the electricity I felt: this is really happening. When the song finally aired on television, I remember tearing up. It was not just about music, it was about reconciliation, healing, and the audacity of creating something new out of what seemed broken forever. I wrote about this event and its personal meaning to me in my book,The Pepper Effect.
In my office today, I still keep a tattered photocopy of Linda McCartney’s photo of Paul, George, and Ringo together from that era. Above it, I have written: “The Impossible Becomes Possible.” Because that is what the reunion meant to me then, and what it still means now.
And now, nearly 30 years later, “Free As A Bird” returns in a brand new mix. Thanks to modern audio restoration, John Lennon’s voice emerges clearer, closer, more present. It feels as if all four Beatles are back in the studio together. Each time I play it, I feel renewal. I feel hope.
Hope as a Leadership Catalyst
Hope is a word often dismissed in leadership circles. Some see it as naïve or impractical, a soft idea in a world that demands hard results. But I believe hope is not a weakness. Hope is a catalyst. It is the ignition that sparks vision into action.
As Casey Gwinn and Chan Hellman remind us in Hope Rising, hope is the belief that “your future can be brighter and better than your past and that you actually have a role to play in making it better.” That belief matters, especially when the weight of challenges threatens to crush our momentum.
The space between vision and action is leadership. Hope and belief have to be in that vision as catalysts.
As leaders, we do not always need a grand plan or sweeping solution in every moment. Sometimes, we just need an entry point. A reminder that even the hardest, most impossible-seeming work can move forward. For me, that entry point is hearing John Lennon’s voice stitched back into the fabric of his bandmates’ music. It is a symbol of reconciliation, resilience, and possibility.
Belief Made Real
The truth is, leadership often feels like trying to reunite what has been broken. It is messy. It is emotional. It is full of skeptics. But the work is also full of potential. When we model belief for our students, for our teachers, for ourselves, we give others permission to believe too.
“Free As A Bird” reminds me daily that impossible things can be made possible. For The Beatles, it was a reunion across decades and even death. For us, it might be turning around a struggling school, reigniting a team’s confidence, or building something new when resources seem scarce.
Whatever the context, hope can be the spark. And belief, when it is shared, nurtured, and lived, can make it real.
So when the days are heavy and the obstacles feel immovable, I return to that song. I hear the reunion of four bandmates who found a way. And I am reminded: if The Beatles could find harmony after all they endured, then maybe we can find our way, too.
As leaders, we have to believe that the impossible becomes possible. That is the gig. We must be relentless in that belief, even when the naysayers gather and the narratives say it cannot be done. Hope gives us the entry point. Belief carries us the rest of the way.
Our calling as leaders is to believe when others doubt, and to carry hope when the weight feels too heavy. When the impossible finds its voice, leaders must believe enough for others to join in the song.
Check out “Free As A Bird” (2025 Mix) by The Beatles:
“The waiting is the hardest part.”-Tom Petty (1981)
As I continue my sojourn in Maine, I gaze upon the lake on another cool summer morning. A warm cup of coffee is my company along with the occasional sparkles smiling at me on the water and a lone loon swimming alongside this morning reverie in the distance.
There’s a certain kind of silence that settles in when your waiting. It’s not always peaceful. It’s filled with hope, doubt, questions, and whispers of “what if.” That’s where I have been reflecting upon lately. There is an art to waiting that leaders must take hold of and learn to appreciate. Many look to us as a lamppost on a dark, foggy night. It is important that we make that the light we carry within, our leadership core, is intact, balanced, and focused.
The Struggle of Waiting
It is important to acknowledge the truth. Waiting is frustrating. It is excruciating into its life span and sometimes I allow negative moments to roam rent free in my head. I try to cope with waiting by cueing up familiar songs to carry me through the anxiety of waiting: “The Waiting” by Tom Petty, “Tired of Waiting for You” by The Kinks, or “I Am Waiting” by The Rolling Stones (a great deep cut by them from my favorite album of theirs, “Aftermath.”) Speaking of the Stones, I even imagine myself in their classic “Waiting on a Friend” video hanging out on the stoop with Mick Jagger looking for Keith Richards. Yet, the bottom line remains for me that waiting is just plain hard.
As leaders, we are wired to take action, make moves, plan next steps. We calculate, strategize, and analyze. There is urgency in the air that needs our focus and we called to act. The clock is ticking, people need decisions, and our vision and mission to serve our school community must be maintain momentum.
Sometimes the most important growth most important growth happens when nothing appears to be happening. For leaders, waiting can feel like failure. It can compel us to embrace the abysmal and tune into second-guesses and should haves. But in this stillness, I’m learning that not moving doesn’t mean not growing.
Waiting is an opportunity.
A Leadership Riff in the Shadows: George’s Quiet Resilience
George Harrison waited. He always did. Whether it was waiting for his guitar solo cue during the early days of The Beatles or waiting for spiritual enlightenment during his pursuit of Transcendental Meditation, George simply waited. He endured a long journey to have his voice and songs recognized within The Beatles. He waited in the shadow of the successful and thriving shadow of the Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership for years. He watched song after song of his get passed over. But instead of giving up and surrendering to doubt, he kept writing. Occasionally, a song would be accepted and many of his songs in The Beatles still resonate today like “Something,” “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and “Here Comes The Sun.”
When the time finally came, George Harrison released the epic-three album, “All Things Must Pass.” This was an album of such depth, resonance, and majesty that it proved to the waiting wasn’t a waste; rather, it was a gathering. That gathering included an all-star line up musicians ranging from former bandmate, Ringo Starr, to Eric Clapton, Klaus Voorman, and all members of Badfinger. Phil Spector co-produced and served the album up with the Wall of Sound. It was filled with songs that The Beatles had rejected and hits that still spin today like “My Sweet Lord” and “What Is Life.”
George Harrison proved that waiting does not have to yield in an abrupt ending. Waiting can compel something beautiful to happen.
Leadership Wait Time
Waiting is a leadership discipline. It can take years to cultivate and nuance for one’s own leadership practice. Waiting teaches us patience, humility, faith, and emotional agility. In the classroom, teachers use “wait time” as a move to create space for students to pause, think, and reflect. It is an intentional pause that is meant to create belonging for students who may feel bashful at responding or to set the stage for a teachable moment to resonate within the classroom.
Leaders have wait time, too. The waiting room is where character gets built. It’s where we learn to lead without control, to listen instead of speak, to reflect instead of react.
As leaders, we have to cultivate space for waiting to ignite reflection. We have to give permission for ourselves to roam into that space to discover new things within ourselves and the people we serve.
This is not always easy and it can be ponderous. I reflect upon the moments of when I am challenged to wait as a leader and as an individual. Within the frustration of the moments of endless waiting, I have sometimes missed those opportunities for reflection and positivity. It’s easy to default to damning doubts and shifting the blame to some universe conspiring against me. Waiting does not have to be negative. We have to shift the paradigm on waiting to something akin to opportunity.
Brene Brown expressed this best for leaders, “Patience is not about waiting. It’s about how we behave while we’re waiting.” This is where we must be very cognizant of how we respond and move during our leadership wait time. We model the expectations and set the tone in our moves. Many look us to be that solid beacon of calm during any level of wait time and it’s important that we lead with grace, poise, and purpose during a leadership wait time.
Waiting can be a pressure cooker for leaders, but it’s important to maintain our core during those ponderous wait times.
There may have been pressure to fill a vacancy quickly whether it was for a teacher, assistant principal, or support staff member. But instead of rushing, you held out for the right fit. You waited, trusted your instincts, and stayed aligned with your school’s mission and values. And when that person arrived, it was clear they were the one. They didn’t just fill a role; they elevated the culture, built trust, and made a lasting impact on students and staff.
That moment, that hire validated the wait. The right choice often takes time.
A Quiet Riff to Carry Forward
Waiting is not weakness. It’s part of the journey. The silence we endure on a decision to be made or an action to occur is not empty. The silence may be an opportunity for you to compose a new song you don’t yet hear. I think of a time during my first principalship when our school was waiting for the outcome of our magnet grant application. The waiting was far-reaching and I remember checking my inbox every day several minutes at a time. This lasted for months and it was not pleasant. The waiting period did bring the faculty closer together as we shared this collective anticipation.
Looking back, it was the waiting that not only bonded us but it helped us persevere when we found out that we didn’t get the grant. The community that was forged during this period lead our school to being the first in the district to successfully implement a non-funded magnet. We had a positive impact on kids and achievement due to the community that was forged during the waiting game.
The truth is, we don’t always get to fast-forward through uncertainty. But we do get to keep showing up with grace, grit, and belief. You can use waiting as an opportunity to model resilience, reflection, and connection with others. And that’s the kind of leadership I want to grow in, one quiet step at a time.
Three Action Steps to Make Waiting More Meaningful for Your Leadership
1. Seek Out Thought Partners
Waiting doesn’t have to be lonely. Use the pause to deepen your leadership bench. Reach out to a mentor, a colleague, or someone who inspires you. Take a spin within your Professional Learning Network (PLN) to seek those people out who can inspire and support you. Share your thoughts and listen to theirs. Thought partnership sharpens perspective, calms uncertainty, and reminds you that you’re not navigating the unknown alone. Collaboration during the waiting season often leads to renewed clarity and creative momentum.
2. Study Leadership Riffs from History
Waiting has shaped some of the most significant leaders and movements in history. Lincoln waited through agonizing losses before the tide turned. Mandela waited in a prison cell for 27 years before transforming a nation. Singer-songwriter Carole King waited years to emerge as a solo artist and record her multi-platinum selling masterpiece, Tapestry. Even The Beatles waited through setbacks and missteps before crafting Sgt. Pepper. Explore these stories not just for inspiration, but as evidence that purpose-driven delay can lead to extraordinary outcomes.
3. Use the Quiet to Bring Your People Closer
While the external outcome is pending, focus inward. Use this time to connect more deeply with your team. Hold space for listening. Celebrate small wins. Reaffirm your shared mission. Leadership isn’t just about making decisions, it’s about fostering belonging. Waiting offers a powerful window to strengthen community, build trust, and ensure your team feels seen and valued.
As a principal, I often find myself dreaming big. I thrive on the grand visions, the Moonshot thinking, and the aspirational moves that inspire transformation. I envision a schoolhouse where many hands work together, creating a masterpiece of learning. But here’s the thing: while I may live in that realm of possibility, I know not everyone shares the same bandwidth or sense of urgency. We all move at different speeds, and it’s our responsibility as leaders to gauge where our teams are. To lead effectively, we must be visible, be present, and most importantly, listen. It’s through this intentional awareness that trust is cultivated.
In the past year, I’ve found a renewed appreciation for the power of small wins, a lesson beautifully captured in two books that have become cornerstones of my leadership practice: Legacy of Learning by Meghan Lawson and The Leader Inside by Lauren Kaufman. Both authors remind us of the importance of celebrating small moves as stepping stones to greater heights. They offer a powerful perspective on how small, intentional acts can build momentum, nurture growth, and foster a culture of progress.
Embracing the Power of Small Wins
In today’s educational landscape, many of us are feeling the weight of the pandemic’s aftermath and the uncertainties of new challenges. I see it daily in our school—a fatigue that cannot be lifted by a Jeans Day or a Donut Party. We need more than quick fixes or temporary boosts. As leaders, we must make deeper, more intentional moves that celebrate small wins and bring joy back into our school communities.
One way I’ve embraced this approach is through curating Images of Possibility. I’ve been using Wakelet to capture and share snapshots of the good happening in our schoolhouse—students smiling, engaging in hands-on learning, or experiencing new adventures like a virtual field trip to Alaska via Nearpod. I sent this Wakelet collection to our staff with a simple note, inviting them to pause and savor these moments. It was a small gesture, but it created a powerful ripple of positivity.
During a recent focus group with our teacher assistants, I shared the Wakelet collection and asked them to reflect on the small wins they’ve witnessed. One TA’s words resonated deeply: “A small win is just that—a win. And a win is a win.” Her comment sparked a wave of sharing, as others opened up about personal victories and classroom successes. It was a moment filled with belonging, connection, and most importantly, hope.
Building Delight Through Intentional Leadership
Reading Unreasonable Hospitality by Will Guidara has also shaped my perspective on leadership lately. Guidara talks about building delight, not through grand gestures, but through thoughtful, intentional moves that show we care. This idea has inspired me to rethink how I approach small wins, not as fleeting moments, but as opportunities to build delight and create lasting impact.
We, as leaders, are called to cultivate hope. We must lift each other up, recognizing that our presence and our voice are catalysts for the hope our students need. It’s about finding the small wins, tuning into them with intention, and amplifying them with purpose.
Four Action Steps for Building Delight and Celebrating Small Wins
Curate Moments of Joy: Start a collection on Wakelet to capture images and posts that highlight the everyday successes in your school. Share these with your staff regularly, creating a visual reminder of the good happening in your schoolhouse. It’s a simple yet powerful way to inspire and uplift.
Begin Meetings with Small Wins: Kick off your meetings by inviting staff to share a recent small win. This practice sets a positive tone, fosters a sense of accomplishment, and encourages a mindset of celebration. It’s a small step that can create a big impact.
Build a Culture of Sharing: Encourage your staff and PLN to use the hashtag #SmallWinsEDU across social media platforms. By sharing small wins, we create a dialogue of support and inspiration. Let’s celebrate each other’s victories and build a network of hope together.
Celebrate Progress, Not Just Perfection: Make it a point to notice and celebrate progress, even if it’s incremental. Acknowledge the effort and the journey, not just the final outcome. When we focus on progress, we create a culture where every step forward is valued and celebrated.
A Call to Action
As school leaders, we have the power to shape the narrative. Let’s tune into the small wins, build delight, and create a culture of hope. Let’s support each other in this journey, lifting each other up through the small yet powerful moves we make every day. Together, we can make a difference, one small win at a time.
So, let’s start today. Share your small wins using the hashtag #SmallWinsEDU and let’s create a collective space of inspiration and support. After all, a small win is still a win, and every win deserves to be celebrated.
Keep dreaming big and finding joy in the small moments. We’ve got this—together.
Hope is something we all need. Whether we’re leading a school, guiding a team, or simply navigating the ups and downs of daily life, hope serves as our compass. It’s the whisper that reminds us we’re on the right path, that our vision matters, and that our efforts have the potential to create something meaningful.
But let’s be real—there are days when the compass feels broken. Days when we question our choices, when doubt creeps in, and Imposter Syndrome casts a shadow over our accomplishments. I’ve been there. We all have. And in those moments, I’ve learned that it’s the small, unexpected flashes of hope that keep us going: the spontaneous smile from a student as I walk down the hallway, the moment a teacher’s lesson hits its stride, or even a kind text from a loved one reminding me I’m not alone in this work.
Sometimes, hope arrives in the form of a song. As many of you know, I’m an unabashed Beatles fan. From The Pepper Effect to #ThePepperEffect, to countless references in talks, blog posts, and podcasts, The Beatles are my creative wellspring. My book, The Pepper Effect, explores the lessons of collaboration, creativity, and leadership that can be drawn from The Beatles’ groundbreaking Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. If you’d like to learn more about it, you can check it out here.
Last year, I had the privilege of writing a piece for Culture Sonar about Now and Then, the “last” Beatles song. The story behind this song resonates deeply with me as a testament to the power of hope. You can read that full piece here.
The story of Now and Then is itself a lesson in hope and perseverance. John Lennon recorded a rough demo at his piano in 1977. When the surviving Beatles—Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr—tried to finish it in the mid-90s, the project hit a wall. The synergy wasn’t there, and the technical limitations made it impossible to isolate John’s vocal clearly. The song was shelved, unfinished, but Paul never let it go. He believed there was something special in John’s demo—a spark waiting to ignite.
Decades later, in 2022, Paul and Ringo revisited Now and Then. With the help of advances in AI and the brilliant production skills of Giles Martin (son of George Martin, The Beatles’ original producer), they were able to clean up John’s vocal and add new musical elements. In 2023, the song was released, and for me, it felt like the world was witnessing a small miracle—a moment when something lost was found again. It was a triumph of hope, a testament to the belief that the impossible can become possible.
Earlier this week, I heard the news: Now and Then has been nominated for a Grammy Award for Record of the Year. It’s a powerful reminder that music—like hope—has the power to change the world. This song, born from a rough demo and sustained by Paul McCartney’s unwavering belief, is a symbol of what can happen when we refuse to give up on something that matters. It’s a lesson for all of us as leaders: sometimes, our vision won’t be embraced right away. There will be times when our ideas are met with polite nods or silence. But that doesn’t mean the idea isn’t worth pursuing. It just means we need to persevere and trust in the process.
Hope isn’t just a feeling; it’s a leadership move. It’s the quiet persistence to revisit ideas, to keep communicating, to invite others to collaborate and play together in the sandbox of possibility. I think about my latest initiative at school—the Principal Read Aloud. As a new leader, I wanted to find a way to connect with our students and teachers, to build trust and community. I proposed giving teachers a 30-minute break while I read aloud to their classes. It’s a simple idea, but it’s grounded in hope and the desire to show our school community that I’m here for them.
So far, only two teachers have signed up, and that’s okay. I’m hanging in there, just like Paul McCartney did with Now and Then. I believe in this small act of connection, and I’m willing to wait for it to grow, one read-aloud session at a time. Because that’s what hope looks like—it’s the willingness to keep showing up, to keep believing in the possibility of something beautiful taking shape.
As leaders, we have to hold onto hope like a North Star. It’s our guiding light, helping us navigate through challenges and inspiring others to do the same. Whether it’s in our school hallways, our team meetings, or even in the quiet moments of reflection, we have to keep hope in the foreground. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.
And as The Beatles remind us in their final song, hope is the thread that ties the past, present, and future together. Now and then, there is hope. It’s what brings us back, time and time again, to believe in the magic of possibility and the power of collaboration.
Let’s keep hope alive in our leadership moves. Let’s embrace the small moments that spark joy and connection. Let’s take the time to revisit old ideas, to share our vision with others, and to trust that, in the end, something beautiful will emerge.
Tune in to Hope:
Embrace Small Acts of Connection: Like my Principal Read Aloud, find simple ways to show your heart and commitment to your school community.
Persevere with Your Ideas: Even if your vision isn’t immediately accepted, keep refining and revisiting it. Trust that it has the potential to resonate with others over time.
Invite Others to Collaborate: Hope grows when we invite others to join us on the journey. Create space for shared ownership and creative contributions.
The journey of Now and Then is a reminder that we’re all part of something bigger. When we lead with hope, we open the door for new possibilities to enter, and that’s when the real magic happens.
There’s a powerful moment in the Ron Howard documentary, The Beatles: Eight Days a Week – The Touring Years, where Paul McCartney reflects on when Ringo Starr first joined the band. McCartney becomes visibly emotional as he recalls the moment The Beatles finally found their unique sound with Ringo’s drumming—the missing piece they’d been searching for. It’s a reminder of the magic that happens when people unite around a shared vision, truly seeing one another in that experience. That’s the heartbeat of any great band, and it’s the pulse that drives a meaningful school culture: connection.
Not every team operates like The Beatles, and not every organization feels that synergy. Even The Beatles had their ups and downs, but despite personal struggles, they continued to rally together. And in our schools, we, too, are called to cultivate that kind of connection, especially in times when loneliness and isolation can seem overwhelming.
A recent article in the Harvard Business Review highlights that one in five employees feel lonely at work. This statistic resonated with me as a principal because leadership can be an isolating role. Principals, often the only ones in their specific position, can feel a sharp sense of loneliness, especially when new to a school. Walking into a new environment, we’ve often left behind a place of familiarity and success and stepped into an unknown, where we may even be perceived as a threat. Building trust in these moments is essential but cannot be accomplished through quick fixes or shallow gestures.
It is also important to remember that the people we serve may be battling some form of loneliness as well. Human-centered work is a labor of love. For some educators in the schoolhouse, the work can be isolating. Individuals in the building may feel bereft of connection for a myriad of reasons. As leaders, we must be steadfast, sincere, and intentional in the steps we take to include those who are not experiencing connection or belonging.
As a principal who has navigated the challenges of turnarounds, I know that intentionality is key. Building trust takes time, and trust is essential for establishing the genuine connections that will combat isolation and loneliness for everyone in the school. As leaders, we must commit to meaningful interactions that empower others and foster a sense of belonging.
Getting into classrooms is one of the most valuable moves we can make as principals. Walkthroughs and observations are essential, but there are ways to build trust and connection beyond mere evaluation. Try hosting a “Read Aloud” or engaging in a “Question Aloud” or “Think Aloud” session. Sharing the written word—whether it’s a passage from an inspiring book or a content-related question—allows us to connect with students and teachers alike. A Read Aloud isn’t just for elementary levels; sharing language and stories can resonate at any grade level, and it’s a moment to be seen as a partner in the learning process rather than an evaluator.
In seeking these connection points, we’re also building pathways for collaboration. One approach I’ve found impactful is a practice I started a couple of years called #InstantPD. After observing a teacher excel in a particular area, I invite them to share a brief, 15-minute PD session for their colleagues. This optional, quick-format session provides a space for teachers to share their insights and build professional connections. As a leader, witnessing this shared growth not only strengthens my sense of belonging but also empowers our educators to connect with each other. This in turn creates authentic belonging and connection for them.
Our role as leaders is not only to combat our own loneliness but also to actively work against it within our schools. Some may be reluctant to join the “band” initially, but with intention and consistency, we can foster a culture where everyone feels they belong.
Conclusion
Hope is the ignition for belonging, and as school leaders, we must foster that hope in ourselves and those we serve. Just as Ringo’s drumming completed The Beatles’ sound, our consistent efforts to connect and include each person in our schools create harmony and a shared purpose. Building a culture of connection requires us to lean into that hope, step into vulnerability, and lead with compassion. Together, we can create school communities that resonate with trust, connection, and shared vision.
Action Steps for Combating Loneliness and Building Connection:
Get Visible in Classrooms Make time for a Read Aloud, a Question Aloud, or a Think Aloud. These are powerful ways to build a sense of belonging by connecting with students and teachers on a personal level. Show up, engage, and share in the learning journey with your school community.
Empower Teacher Leadership through #InstantPD Encourage teachers to share their strengths in optional 15-minute PD sessions. Not only does this build their confidence, but it also fosters a collaborative culture where colleagues can learn from each other in an informal, supportive environment.
Build and Nurture Your Professional Learning Network (PLN) Connect with other leaders, both within your district and beyond, through online communities or local gatherings. A strong PLN can serve as a vital support system, helping you navigate challenges and celebrate successes together.
Create Moments for Personal Connection Simple gestures like checking in with staff, sending a quick thank-you note, or organizing informal meetups can go a long way. Recognize and celebrate the unique gifts each person brings, reminding them that they are an essential part of the team.
By taking these steps, we can build a culture where loneliness is replaced with a sense of shared purpose, and every member of the school community feels seen, valued, and connected.
I’m an unabashed fan of the television series The Bear. I’ve breezed through all three seasons, savoring the beautiful portrayal of a group of people coming together around a shared vision to make the impossible possible. The story of a humble sandwich shop transforming into a fine dining restaurant, with aspirations of becoming the world’s greatest, is nothing short of inspiring.
Without giving away spoilers for those who haven’t seen the latest season, I want to share a brief scene that recently came up in a conversation with Meghan Lawson while preparing for our new podcast, Hope Amplified. It’s no secret that Meghan and I admire the show, having discussed it at length on my other podcast, #PrincipalLinerNotes.
Talking with Meghan is always a meaningful and uplifting experience, and I’m eagerly anticipating our upcoming discussions on the art and science of hope in a new podcast we are co-creating called Hope Amplified. As we were mapping out our inaugural episode, we both recalled a powerful scene from the Season 3 finale of The Bear.
In the scene, the chefs and restaurant staff gather for an impromptu afterparty, marking the bittersweet closure of a renowned restaurant. The head chef—celebrated worldwide for her culinary brilliance—decides to prepare a midnight snack for the guests. The host, a rising chef, hesitates when the famous chef finds only a few modest ingredients, including a frozen pizza. Yet, the renowned chef isn’t deterred. With creativity and mastery, she transforms those humble ingredients into something extraordinary. It’s a moment worth watching, as she turns a frozen pizza into a culinary delight.
As we reflected on this scene, we saw it as a fitting emblem for hope. The show itself is a deep, reflective series filled with life-affirming moments of perseverance, collaboration, and innovation. In Hope Rising by Casey Gwinn and Chan Hellman, hope is defined as the belief that the future can be better than the present, combined with the understanding that we have the power to make it so.
Educators strive to embody this belief every day. Even with limited resources, they create transformative experiences in the classroom. I think of the teachers I have the privilege to support as principal at Charles England Elementary, who cultivate hope daily, opening new possibilities for our students. I’m reminded of my 5th-grade teacher, Mrs. McMonagle, who saw something in me—a young, awkward, light-skinned African American boy—that I didn’t always see in myself. She revealed the possibilities within the written word and storytelling. I also think of my first teachers, my parents, who taught me to dream big, walk with purpose, and hold my head high.
Teachers need many things, but at the core is the hope that they can make a difference in the lives of children. It’s the leader’s role to ignite that hope by fostering a sense of belonging, trust, and open communication. Leaders must call out hope and passionately embrace the possibilities it brings. It’s not just a sentiment but an essential, strategic action.
I’m thrilled to dive deeper into the art and science of hope in upcoming episodes of Hope Amplified with Meghan. Some may argue that hope is not a strategy for leaders to depend on. While I understand that perspective, I disagree. Hope isn’t merely a strategy; it’s a must. It’s an essential thread in the daily fabric of our schools, shaping the lives of those we serve. Without hope, we have nothing. With it, we have purpose, potential, and the catalyst for meaningful change. Don’t let anyone deprive you of that spark. Hope on.
Stay tuned for the debut of Hope Amplified, launching November 2nd. Meghan and I invite you to join the conversation and share your thoughts on hope using the hashtag #HopeAmplified. Here are three small moves for leaders to inspire hope in your school:
Impromptu Restorative Circle: Gather colleagues and teachers for an informal circle to share what gives them hope.
Hope in Action Bulletin Board: Showcase experiences from your school where hope is making a difference.
Hope Playlist: Curate a playlist of songs that inspire hope and share it with your faculty.
The Dreamer’s Dilemma Facing Skepticism with Vision
The other day, I found myself discussing a bold, ambitious goal with colleagues. While I was met with polite nods, I sensed hesitation. When I asked if I needed to clarify my vision, they shared that while they appreciated the dream, they believed the realities of our situation—budget constraints, time limits, and logistical barriers—would prevent it from becoming a reality.
I listened and expressed gratitude for their feedback. However, I countered that if we let impossibilities win, we’ll never achieve anything. It’s easy to accept limitations as inevitable, but when we allow that mindset to dominate, progress halts. Dreaming big requires not just vision but also the courage to challenge reality with hope.
Meeting Others Where They Are Small Moves, Big Impact
I know dreaming big can be daunting for others. Fear, grounded in past experiences, often holds us back from stepping into uncharted territory. I must remind myself not to judge the fears of others but to empower them. Together, we can take small steps to bring the dream closer to reality.
This idea echoes the work of my friend and thought partner Meghan Lawson, whose book, Legacy of Learning: Teaching for Lasting Impact, explores the concept of “small moves.” She shows how incremental progress can sustain dreams and turn them into dynamic action that benefits everyone.
The Power of Hope Why Leaders Must Defy Cynicism
In a recent episode of myPrincipal Liner Notes Podcast, I had the pleasure of speaking with Meghan Lawson for the fourth time. As always, her insights were illuminating. This time, she shared her research on the Science of Hope, a framework that fascinated me. Meghan framed hope not as a passive emotion but as a viable tool for creating change.
Too often, leaders dismiss hope, branding it as ineffective. We’ve all heard the phrase, “Hope is not a strategy.” But when did we decide that embracing hope meant abandoning strategy? Hope can be the catalyst that ignites action. It’s the foundation we need to build dynamic, transformative strategies that work.
Just think—what if John F. Kennedy hadn’t embraced hope when he delivered his famous “We Choose to Go to the Moon” speech? Without hope, there would be no Moon landing, no template for Moonshot Thinking. The impossible only became possible because someone dared to hope and challenged others to do the same.
A Beatles Lesson in Hope Staying True to Vision
The Beatles’ classic song “Hey Jude” offers another powerful lesson in hope. When they first recorded the song, some in the music industry said it was too long at over seven minutes. Radio stations wouldn’t play it, they warned. But John Lennon famously replied, “They will if it’s us.”
And he was right. Hey Jude went on to sell over 8 million copies after its initial release and stayed at #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart for nine weeks. To this day, it’s been streamed over 1.5 billion times on Spotify.
The Beatles operated with hope by trusting their vision and defying the limitations imposed by industry norms. That hope led to the creation of a timeless song that still resonates today.
The Call for Hope in Education Leading with Vision and Possibility
As school leaders, we carry enormous responsibility. Many look to us for solutions, quick fixes, and results. The pressure to meet objectives can make it tempting to dismiss hope as impractical or naive. But I believe hope is exactly what we need.
There will always be pushback—colleagues may talk about you in the parking lot, claiming you’re chasing windmills. But there’s someone in your building who needs to hear a voice rooted in hope. Remember those who saw something in you, believed in you, and called out your potential. They didn’t see you as you were; they saw you as you could be—and that’s the power of hope.
Just as JFK’s words on a Houston day in September ignited a nation to reach the Moon, we, too, can challenge our teams to strive for the stars. Think of the teacher who believed in you and stretched your learning into unknown territory, simply because they had hope.
As Martin Luther King, Jr. shares, “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.” Hope is lasting, enduring, and impactful. We need Hope in the marrow of our culture and the cadence of our dialogue. We need to illuminate a compass of Hope on the teachers and students we serve.
Yes, why not hope?
Four Action Steps to Build a Culture of Hope Transforming Leadership with Vision
Research the Science of Hope Leverage resources on hope to ground your leadership approach in actionable, evidence-based strategies that inspire change.
Start with Small Moves Build momentum by taking small, consistent steps toward your larger vision. Focus on small wins that create a ripple effect in your organization. Meghan Lawson writes about this in her amazing book, Legacy of Learning.
Lead with Vision, Not Fear Acknowledge the realities, but don’t let them stifle your vision. Inspire your team to look beyond limitations and into possibilities.
Amplify Success Stories Celebrate the achievements—both big and small—of your team and students. When others see what’s possible, they’re more likely to believe in and contribute to the bigger vision. Curate those stories using a school hashtag and creating a list with either Padlet, Canva, or Wakelet.
Hope is not just a lofty ideal; it’s the engine that powers real change. Let it be the guide that drives your leadership and inspires others to dream bigger.
Leadership Liner Notes: Sean Gaillard 