The Loneliness of Leadership: A Heartfelt Reflection for School Leaders


Typically, I don’t write blog posts back-to-back. I’ve kept to a steady rhythm of weekly writing since my heart episode last year. That ritual has become part of my healing—recommended by my therapist, yes, but also something I’ve come to cherish. Writing has broken through the fog of writer’s block that followed the release of The Pepper Effect. Through journaling and reflection, I’ve found my way back to words and meaning. I am even working on finishing up a proposal for a new book.

But this piece couldn’t wait.

I’ve been sitting with a question no one prepared me for in “Principal School”:
Why does leadership have to feel so lonely?

It’s a question that’s erupted into big feelings—enough to make me pause on other writing projects and sit with this one instead.

There’s a scene in Peter Jackson’s Get Back documentary that lingers with me. George has left the band. A meeting doesn’t go well. Paul and Ringo return to the studio, uncertain of what’s next. John is nowhere to be found. Paul, visibly shaken, says quietly, “And then there were two.” He stares off into the distance. His eyes well with tears. His voice trembles. You can feel the grief. The possibility that something beautiful and world-changing might be coming to an end.

Watching that moment recently, I didn’t just see it through the eyes of a Beatles fan—I saw it through the lens of a leader holding onto connection, trying not to lose grip.

I’ve been a principal for almost sixteen years. I’ve served in multiple schools, answered the call for turnaround, and poured myself into the gig. I’m grateful for a beautiful family—my wife and three amazing daughters. Their love is a constant light. And I do have a handful of trusted friends, most not nearby. But I’ve felt friendship fade over the years—some lost to distance, some to time, some to disillusionment.

This is the part they don’t tell you about leadership. That people may see your title before they see you. That the weight of tough decisions can sometimes isolate you. That you’ll have days where it feels like everyone is counting on you—and no one is standing with you.

I once thought the PLN (Professional Learning Network) would solve this. Twitter, Voxer groups, hashtags that I created like #CelebrateMonday and #TrendThePositive—those were my entry points to community. And for a while, they worked. I met incredible educators, interviewed inspirational guests for the Principal Liner Notes podcast, and even achieved my dream of becoming a published author.

But not all connections held. Some collaborations quietly ended. Some people I looked up to didn’t turn out to be who I thought they were. And yes, I’ve even had a book idea stolen.

Still, I’m thankful for the moments of light in those spaces—moments when a shoutout brightened someone’s Monday or a podcast guest became a kindred spirit. Yet, after the episode ended or the tweet was sent, the silence would sometimes creep in.

Loneliness doesn’t negate purpose. It doesn’t mean the work isn’t good. But it does mean we need to be mindful of our well-being and human need for belonging.

Recently, I’ve had the privilege of co-facilitating the ISTE-ASCD webinar series with Andrea Trudeau. We’ve explored what it means to create spaces of connection and belonging—especially for those in unique roles like principals and school librarians. These conversations have reminded me that belonging doesn’t just happen. It’s a practice. A choice. A rhythm to keep playing, even when the band seems scattered.

In her book The Let Them Theory, Mel Robbins has a powerful chapter on the quiet heartbreak of adult friendships. She describes how friendships shift from group experiences to individual efforts—and how easy it is to look around one day and realize your circle has vanished. Her advice? Reach out first. Be kind without expectation. Smile. Be curious. Give it time.

It’s advice I’ve tried to follow, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s lonely.

So what do we do with this?

We remember that our core matters. Our heart matters. And so does connection.

Here are a few ways I’m working to move through leadership loneliness—and maybe they’ll help you, too:

  • Savor family and those who know you beyond your title. The gig will wait—those moments with loved ones won’t. I am grateful daily for my wife and our daughters and my family.
  • Reach out. A coffee, a text, a hallway chat. Don’t wait for someone else to go first.
  • Find “only ones” like you. Look for the school librarian, the instructional coach, the counselor—others who might be the only one in their role. Forge that bond.
  • Be vulnerable. Share your story. Someone else might need to hear it. I have been writing deeply about the experiences surrounding my heart episode. I am grateful that others have found it helpful for their journey.
  • Build something outside the gig. A book club. A podcast. A project that brings joy without the pressure.

You are not alone—even when it feels that way. Someone out there gets it. Someone is looking for connection, too.

Keep showing up. Keep being kind. Keep playing your part in this great, imperfect, meaningful symphony of leadership.


Postscript:
During those Get Back sessions, Paul’s loneliness was palpable. But the story didn’t end there. The band found their way back. The Beatles regrouped. And they gave us the Rooftop Concert—a final live performance filled with joy, grit, and unity.

It was their last time playing live together. And it was iconic.

A reminder that even in moments of disconnection, something timeless can still emerge.

Finding Our Bandmates: Leading with Belonging and Hope in Mind

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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.