mental-health

The Leadership Reset

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Every great song needs a pause between the notes. The same is true for leadership. Take a moment, breathe, and tune your heart back to harmony.

As leaders, we have our days. I am talking about the days where we feel our humanity and gaze at our limits. Sometimes that limit gazing leads to doubt. We doubt our purpose. We question our impact. We embrace our blunders and define them as reasons why we don’t matter.

There are times when self doubt takes the stage.
We begin to question our purpose.
We wonder if we make a difference.
We replay our mistakes and convince ourselves they define us.

Leadership can be lonely. I can certainly attest to that after almost twenty years in school administration. It is a loneliness that gnaws at you, the kind that can box you into becoming a castaway who is adrift, rudderless, isolated.

That is the irony of leadership. We are surrounded by people every day, students, teachers, families, and community members, yet the weight of decisions, the scrutiny, and the responsibility can still leave us feeling alone. There are joyful days, of course, but there are also those days when you must make the hard call, stand by your principles even when they are unpopular, and face the quiet stares that question your choices.

Those are the Am I Cut Out for This? days, echoing the title of my good friend Elizabeth Dampf’s recently published, powerful book.

When Doubt Knocks

Every leader faces those moments that stir imposter syndrome, stress, or even depression. It is easy to forget that leadership, as meaningful as it can be, does not define who we are.

Yes, the work might be a calling or vocation, but at its core, it is still a job. What truly defines us is the why behind what we do, our passions, dreams, and values that form the center of who we are.

The work can also be beautiful, impactful, and world changing.

Just the other day, I sat in a parent teacher conference with a parent I had once served years ago at another school. She smiled through tears as she said she was grateful her child was in a place where I could help. That simple moment reminded me that the echoes of our leadership often reach further than we realize. Those moments when we feel seen, valued, and appreciated are the quiet affirmations that we have helped others feel the same.

The Power of the Pause

We are human. We will doubt. We will stumble. But we must also give ourselves permission to pause.

We must be intentional about being present, especially with the people who loved us before we ever had a leadership title. Sometimes, the most courageous move we can make is to take a moment to reset.

Last year, I came across an insightful book, The Reset Mindset by Penny Zenker. It is filled with practical, grounded steps for slowing down, refocusing, and rediscovering purpose. The concept of “reset” has stuck with me ever since, not just as a leadership practice but as a way of living.

Here is my own adaptation, a simple reflection I call The 3 Minute Leadership Reset.

🎧 The 3 Minute Leadership Reset

1. Take a Breath (30 seconds)

Close your eyes.
Inhale slowly and say to yourself:

“I am still here.”

Exhale and say:

“I am enough.”

Do this three times. Feel your shoulders drop. Feel your pulse slow. You have just reclaimed your space in the moment.

2. Anchor in Gratitude (1 minute)

Ask yourself quietly:

  • What one small moment today reminded me I am alive?
  • What one connection, a smile, a song, a student, gave me a spark?
  • What one thing am I proud of, even if no one noticed it?

Write it down in a notebook or say it aloud. That is your leadership echo, a reminder that small actions still ripple outward.

3. Affirm and Reframe (1 minute)

Say these words out loud, slowly and intentionally:

“I am not invisible. I am building something that lasts beyond applause.”
“My work is meaningful, even when it is quiet.”
“The music I make through service, kindness, and creativity still plays, whether or not the crowd is listening.”

Let those words live in your breath. You have just tuned your soul back to the right frequency.

4. Reconnect (30 seconds)

Before moving on with your day, take one small action to reconnect:

  • Send a short message to a friend or colleague.
  • Share a kind word with a student or staff member.
  • Play a song that brings you joy.

These micro moments rebuild our leadership core from the inside out.

One More Thing

Remember this truth: Your presence matters.
There are people, family, friends, and colleagues, who love you simply for who you are. You are never truly alone.

There will be days when the gig feels heavy, isolating, and uncertain. But even in those moments, you have got this. And I believe in you.

As I often say on my podcast:

“Do not forget to share your dreams with the world. The world needs them, and you help make it a better place.”

A Lesson from My Dad

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Lately, if you have been following this blog, you might have noticed a thread weaving through my recent reflections, one centered on gratitude for those I love. A recent health setback prompted me to take a deeper inventory of what and who I am thankful for. That process led me home, in every sense of the word, back to my family, and especially to my father.

For leaders, it is essential to pause intentionally and take time for gratitude. That practice has been reinforced by my good friend, Lainie Rowell, author of Evolving with Gratitude. Her work reminds us that gratitude is not just an emotion but an action, one that ignites connection, strengthens relationships, and transforms the atmosphere of our lives. I was honored to contribute to her book and to witness how gratitude can change the temperature of a soul. It is the grounding rhythm beneath every meaningful leadership melody.

So today, I want to express my gratitude for my father, the best man I know, by sharing a few lessons he has taught me, lessons that have carried me through every stage of my life.

My father has been my teacher, mentor, protector, and moral compass. Through his words and example, he has taught me everything from the musical brilliance of Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On to the importance of a firm handshake and the art of being a gentleman. But the greatest lesson of all has been the power of unconditional love, a lesson deeply rooted in our shared faith.

For years, my father made countless sacrifices for our family. He did it with humility and grace, never once complaining, even in the face of racism or rejection. He stood firm in his devout faith and values, leading not with loud proclamations but with quiet strength. His faith-filled example spoke louder than any sermon ever could. Dad is also on call to say a prayer for you if you need it.

There is one phrase my father has said to me for as long as I can remember:
“Dare to be great.”

He said it to all four of his children. It was never about achievement or applause. It was about integrity, purpose, and belief in our God-given potential. Dad saw greatness in us long before we saw it in ourselves. It is his way to motivate and inspire. Most importantly, it is his way to show that he believes in you but that we also have to believe in ourselves.

I will never forget a small but powerful moment years ago. I had been invited to a local event where I introduced a special screening of Yellow Submarine. As the author of The Pepper Effect, I was thrilled to share my Beatles expertise before and after the film, but when the time came, only a few people showed up. My amazing wife, who has endured my lifelong fascination with The Beatles, was there by my side. And so was my father. He is not a Beatles fan, and that movie was probably far from his cup of tea, but he was there smiling, proud, and present. That is who he is. Showing up has always been my father’s love language.

My father is also the best leadership coach I know. His wisdom is wrapped in empathy and anchored in common sense. When I have faced discouragement, he has always been my one of my first calls. I remember one conversation in particular when I was sinking into self-doubt and negativity. Dad listened quietly, then in his calm and steady voice said,
“Hold your head high, son, like I taught you.”

Those words cut through everything. In an instant, the weight lifted. That is what Dad does. He restores balance, brings perspective, and reminds me of who I am. His optimism is not naïve. It is rooted in faith, experience, and courage.

There have been countless moments like that, moments where my father’s love, patience, and wisdom have guided me back to center. I am beyond blessed to be his son. I am grateful that my three daughters have grown up knowing him as “Papa,” the same man who has modeled grace, humility, and strength for generations.

The world is better, safer, and brighter because of my dad. His life is a testament to faith, love, and quiet greatness.

Dad has taught me to be a better husband, father, and teammate.

And as I reflect on all that he has taught me, I know that I still have much more to learn from him. I will never tire of those lessons.

His lessons continue to guide me, and his love will forever be the compass that leads my way.

Thank you, Dad.

You Are Never Alone: A Note on Mental Health & Well-Being

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Let’s cut to the chase.

I go regularly to a therapist.

I live with panic, anxiety, and depression.

I take medication for that, as well as for high blood pressure. I lean on prayer for guidance, strength, and courage. Music, exercise, and writing serve as my entry points for continued healing.

This is a reality that I face and accept. I am okay. I am a proud father, a grateful husband, and a human being doing his best each day.

We have to normalize the conversation around mental health. It is not a stigma, and it should not be a secret.

Years ago, I listened to an interview where Dwayne Johnson openly shared his battle with depression. Bruce Springsteen, in his memoir Born to Run, wrote candidly about his own struggles. Both sought professional help. Both broke through the stereotype of invulnerability. And when I heard their stories, something deep within me stirred. It was a reminder that I was not alone.

It takes courage to be that open. Johnson and Springsteen are seen as strong, larger than life figures. Leaders, creators, and entertainers who have given millions joy. And yet, they are human. Their willingness to be vulnerable gave me the courage to carry my own weight and step forward in hope.

I want to be clear. I am not an expert on mental health. I can only share the truth I know and the experiences I have lived. What I do know is what it feels like to be alone in the struggle, to wonder if anyone else understands, and to silently hope for connection. I write this with my arm extended, reaching toward you, to say that you do not have to endure this alone.

The myth of leadership tells us to wear capes, to never stumble, to prove our strength through invulnerability. Social media only amplifies this illusion. But the truth is simpler and more profound. We are human. And being human means there are seasons when the darkness feels too heavy to carry on our own.

Viktor Frankl once wrote, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” That quote has carried me in the hardest moments. It reminds me that even in the weight of depression, there is always a small step forward, always a chance to choose connection, always a chance to choose hope.

Depression is real. But so is support. So is the slow, steady step toward light when we reach out, seek help, and allow others to walk beside us.

This summer, on a turbulent flight, I sat next to a man in the grip of a panic attack. I recognized the signs instantly because I have been there. I leaned in and gently reminded him of strategies I knew he likely carried with him. He looked at me in surprise and whispered, “You know about the strategies, too?” I nodded. “Yes. You are going to be okay.” In that moment, both of us were reminded of a powerful truth. We are not alone when we reach out.

I am learning peace. I still face setbacks, but I continue to carry forward with my faith, the love of my wife and our daughters, the guidance of my therapist, and the support of my family along with a few trusted friends who check in on me. Each moment, however small, is a victory. Each step into the light is a lesson in resilience. And each time I share my story, I am reminded that others are waiting for the validation that they, too, are not alone.

Maya Angelou said it beautifully: “We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated.” Her words remind me that setbacks are part of the journey, but they do not define us. They are reminders to rise, to endure, to keep moving toward the light.

So, if you are silently struggling, know this: I see you. You are loved. You are valued. You belong.

As my father taught me to hold my head high, you are encouraged to do the same. If you do not feel compelled, then you are welcome to lean on me and we can walk forward together.

As I write, Beethoven’s 7th Symphony plays in the background. He composed it even as he faced the devastating reality of losing his hearing. He leaned into his craft and created something timeless. That reminder gives me courage: even in the face of struggle, we can pivot into something beautiful.

Let us do that together. Let us lean on one another. Let us check in with each other. Let us create, compose, and carry forward.

You are never alone.

Pivot Into Something Beautiful

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This morning, while working on my next book Leadership Riffs, I let Keith Jarrett’s The Köln Concert play in the background. I have written about this album before, but something unexpected happened when I decided to drop the needle on the vinyl instead of streaming.

The turntable, set incorrectly at 45 rpm instead of 33⅓, landed me in the middle of Part I around the 20:06 mark. What I heard stopped me cold.

After minutes of Jarrett leaning into discord and dissonance, suddenly there was light. Luminous chords, flowing lines, and then his voice crying out in release. It was as if he had reached a destination he had been searching for all along. The sound was not just music. It was hope.

That serendipitous moment struck my soul. It became an epiphany, a reminder that even in chaos and constraint we can pivot into something beautiful. It was the salve I needed after a recent health scare and series of setbacks.

The Story Behind the Concert

On January 24, 1975, Keith Jarrett nearly did not play that night in Köln.

The wrong piano had been delivered, a rehearsal instrument with thin upper registers, clunky pedals, and a weak bass. Jarrett was exhausted, suffering from back pain and lack of sleep. He wanted to cancel. Only the persuasion of a 17 year-old promoter, Vera Brandes, brought him onto the stage.

What emerged was a 66 minute improvisation that has since become the best selling solo piano album in history. By leaning into the piano’s limitations, using the middle register, repeating rolling ostinatos, and drawing beauty out of imperfection, Jarrett transformed adversity into transcendence.

That is the essence of leadership, too.

Leadership Lessons from 20:06

That breathtaking passage embodies resolution after chaos. It is not effortless sweetness. It is earned beauty, a pivot through difficulty into light.

Leadership asks the same of us.

  • Resilience under Constraints
    Jarrett could have walked away. Instead, he transformed weakness into strength. Leaders are often asked to do the same, to make music with the instrument we are given even when it is not the one we wanted.
  • Breakthrough After Discord
    Just as Jarrett’s improvisation cycles through tension before reaching radiance, we lead through doubt, criticism, and setbacks. Persistence turns noise into resonance.
  • Authenticity and Presence
    His whoops and grunts are raw and unfiltered. They testify to the power of being fully present. Leadership demands that same authenticity, showing up as our full selves even when it is messy.
  • Hope as Resolution
    At 20:06 the sound is not just technical brilliance, it is hope. And hope matters. Hope is the ignition for inspiring action. It may not be the entire strategy, but it sparks the courage to act.

Pivoting Forward

As leaders we face naysayers, doubters, and moments of discord. We face seasons where the piano is broken and the odds are stacked. But like Jarrett, we can pivot into something beautiful.

That pivot might look like a coaching conversation with a teacher after a walkthrough that helps shift practice and confidence. It might be listening deeply to a student who is carrying the weight of grief and helping them take a small next step. It might be celebrating the quiet win of a class finally nailing a concept that once felt unreachable. It might even be choosing to recognize the dedication of a colleague who shows up each day despite personal struggles.

Just as Jarrett cried out in exhilaration when he reached that breakthrough, we, too, can carry communities forward by pivoting into light, naming the hope, and helping others step into it with us.

Because on the far side of difficulty there is beauty. And on the far side of discord there is hope.

That is what leaders do. We pivot into something beautiful.

Check out Part 1 of Keith Jarrett’s masterpiece below and go to the 20:06 mark or hear it from the beginning of the track.

When Authenticity Is Enough: Leading With Truth & Soul

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A couple of weeks ago, I had another health scare. My blood pressure spiked, and I ended up in the hospital. I am better now, but those hours of quiet reflection reminded me of something I can’t overlook anymore. I had lost my balance, and it caught up with me.

What surfaced most clearly in that hospital room was this truth: I have to lead as my authentic self. Every time I have tried to wear the mask of someone else’s idea of leadership, I’ve paid the price. The expectations, the performances, the comparisons; none of it leads to joy. Authenticity does. The words of my dear father resonated in my mind as I was facing my internal valley of doubts, “Hold your head high, like I taught you.” My father is my icon for what it means to be an authentic leader. He sees the best in others, guides his moves with faith, and motivates others to get off the proverbial bench because as he says, “Everyone plays. Everyone is a starter. Let’s dare to be great!”

Autenticity is the pathway to joy and the ignition us to be our very best selves for others.

And I am reminded daily that joy comes in the smallest of places. The other morning, I was standing in the cafeteria line talking with kids over breakfast. One challenged me to a game of rock paper scissors. In that small moment of laughter and connection, I found energy again. These little moments are not little. They are everything.

That’s why Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska has been on my turntable again. A stripped-down, raw, uncompromising record. Just voice, guitar, and truth. The industry didn’t expect it, but Springsteen didn’t compromise. He stayed true to the vision he knew he had to share. And now, with the upcoming film based on the creation of Nebraska, Deliver Me From Nowhere on the horizon, it feels validating to see that choice recognized for the powerful act it was.

Every leader has their own version of Nebraska, a stripped-down truth that others may ignore, dismiss, or even resist. The challenge is to hold on to it, to trust it, and to keep leading from it. Authentic leadership rarely comes with applause or bright lights. It is often quiet work, anchored in conviction and presence. It is about refusing to dilute your vision simply because it doesn’t match someone else’s script.

We see examples of this courage throughout history. Rosa Parks chose quiet defiance over spectacle, and her authenticity shifted the course of a nation. Nelson Mandela held to his convictions through decades of imprisonment and emerged stronger, not broken. I think of the times in my leadership where my authenticity help to guide me to embrace the impossible even when naysayers attempted to dispel what I could bring to the table.

Even in our time, I see inspiring friends like Lauren Kaufman and Meghan Lawson modeling this kind of authentic leadership in their blogs. Their writing resonates because it comes from a place of truth, not performance. Their voices remind me that leadership grounded in honesty has the power to connect, inspire, and endure.

Your Nebraska may not look like anyone else’s. It may not be understood at first. It may even be pushed aside. But if you stay with it, if you let your truth guide your steps, it can become the defining force of your leadership. And in the end, authenticity is not only enough, it is everything.

Four Takeaways for Leaders

  1. Authenticity sustains: Don’t chase someone else’s version of leadership. Stay rooted in who you are.
  2. Small moments matter: A quick conversation or shared laugh can carry more impact than a staged performance.
  3. Comparison drains, presence restores: Shift your focus from how you measure up to where you are needed most.
  4. Find your Nebraska: Hold on to your stripped-down truth, even when it’s overlooked. That is where your real strength lives.

I am honored to be part of the Courageous Leadership Panel, a free webinar sponsored by K + E Innovation with Lauren Kaufman, Meghan Lawson, and Dave Burgess on September 16, 2025 at 7:00 p.m. Eastern. RSVP for this dynamic conversation here: https://lnkd.in/g6SswcTm

When the Impossible Finds Its Voice: How a Beatles Song Taught Me About Hope and Carrying On

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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:

Hold On to Your People: A Note for School Leaders (and Myself)

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They don’t tell you in principal school just how lonely this gig can be.

Sure, there’s training on instructional leadership, school law, strategic planning, and evaluation protocols. All important stuff. But no one pulls you aside and says, Hey, just so you know, this work will sometimes feel like you’re on an island. Even when you’re surrounded by people, it may feel like no one sees the real you.

This is something I’ve carried with me in all my years as a principal.

Maybe it’s the pace. Maybe it’s the weight of making sure every child is seen, every adult is supported, and every decision aligns with the mission. Or maybe it’s just that in the whirlwind of trying to show up for everyone else, I started to drift from those who know me best.

I’ve lost friends. Not from fights. Not from falling outs. Just from the slow fade that happens when the job becomes the only song you play. And I’m learning through therapy, reflection, and some long walks with myself that it doesn’t have to be that way.

This summer reminded me.

At the ISTE-ASCD Conference in San Antonio, I was surrounded by kindred spirits. Educators, innovators, and thought partners I’ve known for years through screens and conversations. We laughed. We shared. We learned together. But most importantly, I wasn’t “Principal Gaillard.” I was just Sean. The same Sean who loves vinyl records and The Beatles. The same Sean who shows up with a notepad full of scribbles and a heart full of ideas. That feeling of being seen and embraced without the title attached nourished something in me.

That same feeling showed up again in a different space at my cousin’s wedding in Michigan. No one was asking for school updates or strategic plans. I was simply a cousin. A brother. A nephew. A dad. A husband. I was known not because of what I do, but because of who I am. Nothing will beat the joyful moment of hitting the dance floor at the wedding repection with my wife and daughters.

Those moments sustained me. And they reminded me that who I am matters just as much as what I do. Maybe more.

So this post isn’t just a message for my fellow school leaders as we enter another school year. It’s a note to myself.

Don’t lose your people.

The ones who love you for your corny jokes. The ones who know your favorite song. The ones who don’t care about your school data but care deeply about your heart.

Leadership doesn’t have to be lonely. But we have to choose connection on purpose. That’s the work I’m trying to do. And if it helps, here are four small, doable moves I’m committing to this year. Maybe they’ll work for you too.

4 Moves to Stay Connected (That Even a Busy School Leader Can Do):

1. Send one text a week to a friend.
Not a long update. Just a quick check-in. Thinking of you. Hope you’re good. It takes less than a minute but can mean everything.

2. Put a standing “non-school” date on your calendar.
Maybe it’s coffee with a college friend once a month. Maybe it’s a walk with your partner every Thursday evening. Block the time like it’s a meeting. Because it is a meeting with the best parts of yourself.

3. Say “yes” to one invite.
Even when you’re tired. Even when the to-do list is yelling. If a friend invites you to dinner, a concert, a call—say yes. One yes can reconnect you to who you are outside of the principal’s office.

4. Name your people.
Make a list of 3 to 5 folks who know you beyond the job. Tape it to your desk. These are your people. When the days get heavy, look at those names. Then call one. Or just remember their laughter. That’s your reset button.

As this new school year begins, don’t forget the people who walk with you outside of the school walls. They’re the ones who keep your heart steady. They’re the ones who remind you that being just you is more than enough.

I’m holding onto my people this year.

Hold onto yours.

A Mindset for Masterpiece Leadership

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What if we lived like the masterpiece was already within us?

Not something to chase.
Not something to prove.
But something to uncover: one brushstroke, one note, one word, one choice at a time.

Every student.
Every educator.
Every human.

Brushstrokes of Belief

I think about the times I’ve compromised this mindset. When I was told I dreamed too big. When I was advised to play it safe. I think of the moments when I silenced the masterpiece inside me and gave in to the ease of the status quo. I remember the opportunities I allowed to slip by: ideas that could’ve blossomed into impact because I chose comfort over courage.

As leaders, we must stay grounded in our core. We must also recognize and nurture the masterpiece within the people we serve. Every child, every teacher, every staff member-each one carries the potential for something extraordinary. And it’s our role to invite them into that mindset by stewarding a culture of trust and belonging.

The Invitational Question

As the school year begins, it’s easy to get swept up in to-do lists, calendars, classroom setups, and kickoff meetings. We aim for a smooth start. We hope for a clean slate and an open horizon.

But what if we paused and started the year with one powerful, invitational question?-

How might we co-create a masterpiece in our schoolhouse: one that uplifts our students and each other?

Let that question be your catalyst.
Maybe it’s what your team needs to hear from you.
Maybe it’s what you need to hear from yourself.
Let it refuel your purpose. Let it restore your voice. Let it help you walk in your truth.

Rewriting the Lesson Plan Narrative

In The Pepper Effect, I write about believing in your school’s masterpiece. Just like The Beatles banded together to create Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, a masterpiece isn’t made in isolation—it’s built in collaboration and powered by belief.

At one school where I served as principal, we embraced this mindset in an unexpected place: lesson plans.

Too often, lesson plans become compliance checklists, stifling creativity and reducing the work of educators to mere documentation. Some principals use them as instruments of what Stephen M.R. Covey calls “Command and Control” leadership.

We flipped the script.

Instead of just turning in lesson plans, teachers would highlight a Masterpiece Moment: a singular experience they crafted with passion and intention. It might be a writing prompt, a science experiment, a read-aloud, or a student-led discussion. It didn’t have to be perfect: it had to be purposeful.

In faculty meetings, these moments were shared and celebrated. One teacher compared her lesson to Georgia O’Keeffe’s Sky Above Clouds. Another likened hers to a jazz solo-improvised yet deeply moving.

That small practice opened space for connection, creativity, and belonging. And it reminded us that teaching, like art, is about resonance not replication.

Beethoven’s Ninth and the Schoolhouse

When Beethoven composed his Ninth Symphony, he was completely deaf. Yet, out of silence, he created one of the most profound masterpieces in human history, a work that transcends time, language, and boundaries. The Ode to Joy finale still brings audiences to their feet in awe. It always brings me to tears.

What does that have to do with school leadership?

Everything.

Sometimes leadership feels like working through silence. This can occur when feedback is absent, progress feels slow, or inspiration wanes. And yet, like Beethoven, we still compose. We still create. We still believe. Because the masterpiece is not in the noise, it’s in the conviction, the resilience, and the courage to keep going.

Your school can be your Ode to Joy—crafted not out of perfection, but out of perseverance and purpose.

Four Moves to Practice Masterpiece Leadership All Year Long

1. Curate “Masterpiece Moments” Monthly
Set aside 5 minutes during staff meetings to highlight one standout teaching moment from a colleague. Let them share what made it special. Invite joy, not judgment.

2. Embed the Question Into Coaching & Walkthroughs
Use the question “What part of your instruction this week feels like a masterpiece?” as a reflection prompt in coaching conversations or feedback forms.

3. Display Masterpiece Boards
In a shared space, physically or virtually, let staff (and students!) contribute their own “masterpiece” moments throughout the year. This builds a gallery of impact, belonging, and belief.

4. Model It as a Leader
Share your own masterpiece moments as a principal—an email to families, a conversation with a student, a restored partnership. Let your staff see your brushstrokes, too.

The Masterpiece Within

A true masterpiece is timeless and universal. It’s not about accolades or applause; rather, it’s about meaning. It connects us to our humanity. It sparks new ideas. And in leadership, that’s our calling: to ignite that mindset in others.

Especially on the days filled with deadlines, meetings, emails, and decisions—remember:

You are the catalyst.
You carry the brush, the baton, the pen.

We all carry a masterpiece within us.
What if that belief became the prevailing mindset—in our schools, in our leadership, in our lives?

Let’s lead from that place.
Let’s teach from that place.
Let’s be that place.

Polishing Forks, Painting Ladders: Why Little Moments of Respect Matter

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A Collaborative Blog Post by Meghan Lawson & Sean Gaillard

Sean:

This post is a follow-up to our recent collaboration on Season 4 of The Bear. Meghan Lawson and I had such a great time thought-partnering and exploring leadership through the lens of this compelling show that we knew we had to keep the conversation going. When a story grabs your heart and your mind in equal measure, you follow it. For us, The Bear does just that.

We both love this show. We find ourselves returning to its characters, their struggles, their growth, and the environments they navigate because there are so many leadership lessons embedded in their journeys. These are not neat, polished takeaways. These are messy, raw, and very real moments that mirror the work we do in schools and systems every day.

One of the most moving scenes from Season Two is found in Episode Seven, “Forks.” It’s a moment where Richie, played with heart and grit by recent Emmy nominee Ebon Moss-Bachrach, has just completed a transformative stage at a fine dining restaurant. He wanders into the kitchen, reflecting, observing, absorbing. There, he finds Chef Terry, portrayed with quiet power by Olivia Colman, delicately peeling mushrooms.

They exchange a short but unforgettable conversation.

Richie asks, “Why do you do this?”
Terry replies, “Respect.”

That single word hangs in the air—soft yet commanding. It lands like a truth bomb.

Richie follows up, “Time well spent. That’s what it’s all about?”
Terry responds, “Yeah, I think so.”

As she steps away, she shares a simple, affirming note: Carmy, Richie’s current boss, told her that Richie was good with people.

That moment is not loud. It is not filled with urgency or ego. It is filled with presence, affirmation, and intentionality. Those are the moments worth striving for as a leader.

I love those quiet moments when I’m walking the hallways and visiting classrooms in the school I serve. These are the quiet moments that reflect the glow of a child who feels that sense of belonging. It is the knowing glance from a teacher when I see them in action with a teachable moment. Those are the moments which sustain and carry me on the days when I may be bereft of energy or I have forgotten my leadership purpose.

You go in quest of those moments that echo your purpose as a leader and resonate in impact that ignites the good for others. That makes the whole gig worthwhile.

Over the years, school leadership has sometimes been mistaken for performance art—standing on tables, performing viral-worthy stunts, orchestrating social media optics. While there’s a place for fun, it should never be contrived. Leadership is not about applause. It’s about authenticity.

The “Forks” episode plays like a compelling work of art. It simmers and marinates with beautifully-wrought simplicity. And in that quiet simplicity, we’re reminded: respect isn’t loud. It’s intentional.

And there it is—one leadership lesson.

Meghan:

Sean has so beautifully captured this story, and I’m so glad he mentions it because it is indeed one of my favorite moments from the show.

My husband works in college basketball, and a while back, I wrote a blog post titled, Painting Ladders. It was about how I learned from him that every little detail matters, and none of us are above contributing to those little details.

There was a season when his team won their conference. We all know the tradition: players climb the ladder to cut down the net. That moment is symbolic, beautiful, and hard-earned.

But before the moment, there was the ladder.

The team’s ladder was yellow—not one of the school’s colors. My husband didn’t complain or delegate. He went out, bought navy paint, and stayed up until midnight painting it. No announcement. No credit. He just did it.

Because it mattered. Because of respect.

I try to carry that lesson with me into schools. No job is below me. No detail is too small. It’s about honoring the work and the people who do it. It’s about the culture we’re building—one choice at a time.

“Every second counts” is a phrase repeated throughout The Bear. It’s even emblazoned on the kitchen wall. But this scene reminds us: it doesn’t mean hustle until you break. It means something deeper. Every second is an opportunity to honor your work, your people, and the space you share.

Leadership isn’t just pushing for results. It’s about presence. Listening. Quietly showing someone they matter.

Terry is peeling mushrooms. Richie is paying attention. A few words are exchanged. A leader is affirmed. A purpose is clarified.

That is leadership.

I believe these kinds of moments shape culture. Hallway conversations. Check-ins after a tough day. The unseen prep done with care. The fork that gets polished when no one is watching.

I remember when I first became a building principal. I had dreams of grand gestures for staff, but I was serving over 700 students PK–5 with no assistant principal or counselor. The grand ideas gave way to meaningful ones: showing up in classrooms, learning kids’ names (first, last, and middle), greeting students at the door, cleaning fingernails, brushing hair, riding the bus.

That’s where the culture was built.

There are no small moments in a school.

So, here’s to peeling mushrooms. Here’s to painting ladders. Here’s to time well spent, quiet presence, and respect that shows up without a microphone.

Every second really does count.

Let’s keep leading like it matters. Because it does.

Four Actionable Leadership Moves:

  1. Lead with Presence, Not Performance
    Show up consistently, not for the spotlight, but for the people. Leadership is built in everyday interactions, not staged moments.
  2. Honor the Small Details
    From a clean classroom to a student’s confidence boost, the smallest touches reflect the greatest respect. Don’t underestimate their impact.
  3. Practice Intentional Affirmation
    Just like Terry affirmed Richie, leaders should look for genuine moments to recognize others. Quiet encouragement often speaks the loudest.
  4. Be Willing to Paint the Ladder
    Do the behind-the-scenes work. Fix the overlooked things. Whether anyone notices or not, that’s how you show respect for the team and the mission.

Let’s keep polishing forks and painting ladders. Leadership lives in the quiet corners.

The In-Between Moments: Finding the Groove of Connection at ISTE + ASCD

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I’m dancing.

The groove is on the move in San Antonio, and Marvin Gaye’s “Got To Give It Up” is pulling me into the aisle at the end of an unforgettable MainStage experience at the ISTE + ASCD Conference. DJ Catwalk is spinning the exit music. The room is clearing out after being inspired by the beautiful voices and stories of Sabba Quidwai, Scott Shigeoka, and Jason Reynolds. And there I am—dancing alone. No choreography. No cool moves. Just me, caught in the joy of the moment.

This was one of those in-between moments—the kind you don’t plan for but end up meaning the most. The kind that happens off-script, off-schedule, and sometimes even offbeat. It’s like a classroom teachable moment or when a band falls into an unexpected groove and something beautiful just… happens.

I hadn’t been to ISTE in six years. I had never been to an ASCD event. I have been a member of both organizations for years. But this first combined experience didn’t feel like two worlds crashing together—it felt like home. It reminded me of The Brady Bunch hitting its stride: unless you were paying attention to the lyrics or the first season, you forgot it was a blended family. It was seamless, like when the Brady kids became a singing group and belted out “It’s A Sunshine Day.”

There were many moments that filled my heart.

I was honored to be named an ISTE-ASCD 20 to Watch Award recipient. (Grateful for to meet Lauren Richardson!) It was humbling beyond words. I was also privileged to co-present with my friend and thought-partner, Dr. Andrea Trudeau, on the partnership between principals and librarians—a project that has grown from our year-long ISTE-ASCD Expert Webinar Series. That presentation was special, no doubt.

But the moments in between—those moments between sessions, in the aisles, on bookstore strolls, and even in hurried walks through the Expo Hall—are the ones that have stayed with me. Like meeting finally, Jacie Maslyk, an amazing author and expert on STEM and Literacy, was akin to meeting a member of The Beatles. Or even meeting Jen Rafferty, an inspiring voice and friend in my PLN, was so meaningful.

I had the joy of finally meeting my longtime friend and collaborator, Meghan Lawson, in person. Walking the bookstore with her, sharing sessions, and learning side-by-side filled my soul. We made sure to share learning and send love to our mutual friend Lauren Kaufman, whose presence was deeply missed. And it was incredible to reconnect with some of my North Carolina PLN band—Brian Whitson, Lindsey Sipe, and Ashley McBride. Seeing familiar faces from home made it all the more meaningful.

I’ll never forget the rush of moving through the Expo Hall with Andrea as we tried to find one of our longtime inspirations, Jennifer Gonzalez. We’ve admired her work through her Cult of Pedagogy podcast and blog for years. When we finally met, the moment turned into a conversation about music, vinyl, and what’s on our respective turntables. It felt like family.

I had the honor of seeing my mentor, Todd Whitaker, co-present with Steve Gruenert. They are the co-authors of School Culture Rewired, a book that sparked the beginning of #CelebrateMonday for me years ago. During their session, Todd spotted me from the audience and invited me to share a quick story from my seat. That was another in-between moment I won’t forget.

There were so many others. Seeing Danny Steele drop the mic in a session on instructional leadership. Sitting in awe during Suzanne Dailey’s powerful Turbo Talk on happiness. One line in particular stuck with me: “Instead of asking someone how their day was, ask them, ‘Tell me something good.’” That simple shift reframed how I want to connect with others—whether in the hallway, in PLCs, or with students at dismissal. Of course, the uplifting symphony of the words of Baruti Kafele during his session on his book, What Is My Value Instructionally to the Teachers I Supervise? resonated with me deeply.

And perhaps one of the most unexpected and humbling moments? During a roundtable discussion hosted by Educational Leadership magazine, someone referenced this very blog—Principal Liner Notes—as a resource. That meant more to me than I can express. It was one of those quiet nods that affirms you’re doing something that matters.

Bringing It Home: Six In-Between Moves for Meaningful Momentum

When a conference like this ends, it’s easy to slip into the post-event blues. But I choose to stay in the groove—to keep the connection and meaning alive in small but powerful ways. Here are six moves I’m bringing back to the schoolhouse:

MoveWhat to TryWhy It Matters
1. Share One TrackDon’t overwhelm: just share one idea or resource with your team.Simple focus leads to deeper conversation.
2. Ask Better QuestionsReplace “How was your day?” with “Tell me something good.”Invites joy, not just information.
3. Cue the TurntableAsk someone what’s on their playlist, book stack, or lesson plan.Sparks connection beyond the surface.
4. Micro-PD MomentsHost a 15-minute “conference spark” PD during planning or lunch.Small doses of big ideas go a long way.
5. Partner Up with PurposeTry a principal-librarian collaboration or cross-role project.Creativity thrives in unlikely pairings.
6. Keep the Groove GoingSchedule a reconnection call with someone you met at ISTE-ASCD.Keeps momentum rolling beyond the swag bag.

Final Riff

This conference reminded me that the work we do is about people. It’s about presence. It’s about staying in rhythm with the learners, teachers, mentors, and friends who help us write our leadership song.

To everyone I met, hugged, high-fived, or learned with in San Antonio: thank you. You filled my heart. You reminded me of the beauty in the in-between.

So keep asking what’s on someone’s turntable. Keep dancing in the aisle. And most of all—keep leading without limits. .

Learn More About ISTE + ASCD here:

–https://www.ascd.org/

–https://iste.org/