The other day, I was meeting someone for the first time, and—no surprise—The Beatles came up in conversation. I found myself doing what I often do: searching for shared connection, for kindred sparks, for the chords that bring people together.

As I sipped from my well-worn Let It Be coffee mug, I found myself reflecting—not just on my love for the band, but on why I love them so deeply. My thoughts landed in the final scene of The Beatles Anthology documentary, where each Beatle offers a summation of the band’s journey. Paul McCartney’s words have always stuck with me:

“I’m really glad that most of our songs were about love, peace, and understanding.”

That’s the legacy of The Beatles. A body of work grounded in themes that transcend time and trend. Love. Peace. Understanding. Their music is an echo that still resonates across generations, creating belonging, joy, and reflection in all who listen.

That’s the power of legacy.

As I wrap up my 33rd year in education, I find myself tuning in to that word—legacy—and asking what it means in the context of a school year. I think of my good friend, Meghan Lawson, and her powerful book, Legacy of Learning. She writes:

“What you do in your classroom and school matters. In a big way. We are always making an impact on students and colleagues, whether good or bad.”

Legacy is not about ego, applause, or glory. It’s not about showmanship or staged stunts dressed up as leadership. Legacy is about the quiet echoes we leave behind in the lives we’ve touched—the ones who are better because we showed up and stayed the course.

In my office hangs a photo of Walt Disney standing in the middle of a swamp in central Florida, surrounded by blueprints for what would one day become Walt Disney World. He never lived to see it finished. But his vision endured, carried forward by a team who believed in the mission.

I often show that photo to my leadership teams—not because I want us to build castles, but because I want us to believe in what’s possible. It’s a reminder that legacy is built not in isolation, but in collaboration. It takes vision, belief, and a team that leans into each other’s strengths.

This year, I invited our Instructional Leadership Team and School Improvement Team to create an Accomplishment Inventory—a running list of all we had done that positively impacted students. It was a celebration of small wins and shared progress. It was a testament to the legacy we’re building together, moment by moment, step by step.

As this school year nears its close, I offer these reflections and action steps for you to consider:

🎧 Reflect with Intention
Take 10 minutes. Journal. Ask yourself: What is the legacy I’ve left this year? Where did I show up? Who did I lift?

📷 Find Your “Swamp” Photo
Print or display a photo that symbolizes your long-term vision—the unfinished dream. Revisit it when you need clarity or courage.

📋 Create Your Accomplishment Inventory
Alone or with your team, write out the moments that made a difference. Celebrate them. Share them. Build on them.

Legacy isn’t what we say about ourselves. It’s what others say when we’re not in the room. It’s the tone we set, the hope we pass on, the lives we quietly change.

So tune in. Reflect. And keep building. Your echo matters.