mental-health

Somewhere in the Universe, Someone Believes in You Completely

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

As I write this, I’m sitting with the weight of another school year nearing its close—reflective, grateful, and searching for meaning in the midst of it all.

I’ve been a principal for 16 years. I’ve poured myself into school after school, often the ones that needed the most care. I’ve stood on stages, been a finalist for NC Principal of the Year, written a book from my heart, and still—there are moments, like now, when I wonder if it’s all making a difference.

Maybe you’ve felt that too.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about The Beatles.
Specifically, August 29, 1966—their last public concert at Candlestick Park in San Francisco. They had reached a breaking point. They felt like they weren’t playing well.  Between public backlash over John Lennon’s remarks about The Beatles being more popular Jesus Christ and diplomatic fallout in the Philippines from unintentionally snubbing the President and First Lady there, the pressures became too much. So they did something radical—they stepped back. No farewell tour. No grand finale. Just a quiet pause.

Each band member took time to rediscover who they were beyond the noise. John went to Spain to film How I Won the War. Paul collaborated with George Martin on a film score. George immersed himself in sitar studies with Ravi Shankar in India. Ringo stayed home to be with his family.

Then, something beautiful happened.

They returned—not to the stage, but to the studio. And from that retreat came a wave of brilliance: Strawberry Fields Forever, Penny Lane, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

All of it began with a pause. A reset. A reclaiming of identity. A spark of innovation that changed the face of Music.

As leaders, we may not have world tours or screaming fans, but we do know what it feels like to carry the weight of expectations and the constant drumbeat of demands. In that rhythm, we can forget to care for ourselves in the same way we care for others.

We all crave connection. We all crave belonging.
And while we work so hard to create that for our teams, our students, and our communities—we must also remember to create it for ourselves.

Take the walk.
Play the record.
Write what’s on your heart.
Give yourself the same grace you offer to everyone else.

It’s easy to fall into the comparison trap—scrolling through highlight reels, seeing the accolades, the applause, the polished smiles. I’ve been there too. But the truth is, none of that defines your worth or your purpose.

Your worth is in the quiet moment with a student who needed someone to believe in them.
It’s in the coaching conversation that sparked a teacher’s growth.
It’s in the way you show up—consistently, compassionately, courageously.

You may not always see the impact. But it’s there.

If you’re at a crossroads, unsure of what’s next, or simply longing to feel grounded again, let this be your reminder:

Somewhere in the universe, someone believes in you completely.

Not for your title.
Not for your credentials.
But for who you are. For how you lead with heart. For how you care, even when it’s hard.

You matter.

Your leadership matters.

Your impact matters, and it will continue to do so in ways seen and unseen.

The Loneliness of Leadership: A Heartfelt Reflection for School Leaders

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

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.

Leadership Riffs: Jamming for Impact

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

In music, a riff is a heartfelt, memorable melody—like the opening chords Keith Richards plays on The Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction.” But riffs aren’t limited to music alone; they’re found in those spontaneous, soulful exchanges we have as leaders after faculty meetings, in hallway conversations, or during inspiring conferences.

At the recent North Carolina Association for Middle Level Education (NCMLE) conference in Charlotte, NC, I experienced some deeply moving “Leadership Riffs.” Visionary leaders like Dr. Darrin Peppard opened my mind to fresh possibilities about cultivating vibrant leadership teams. Dr. Marie Moreno shared her heartfelt passion for an upcoming book, igniting an inspired dialogue that still resonates. These beautiful exchanges reminded me that leadership, like music, thrives on improvisation, authenticity, and the power of human connection.

Leadership Riffs aren’t about playing the same old notes—they’re about courageously pushing boundaries, creating harmonies, and passionately innovating together.

Here are a few heartfelt “Leadership Riffs” that underscore why our impact truly matters:

1. “A Throwaway Line in a Beatles Epic”

Paul McCartney nearly tossed out the lyric, “The movement you need is on your shoulder,” from the timeless Beatles’ classic “Hey Jude.” He saw it merely as a temporary placeholder, lacking clarity. But when John Lennon passionately insisted the line remain, Paul recognized something deeper—a powerful moment of trust and affirmation between friends. Now, every time Paul sings that lyric, he holds tightly to the memory of John’s insight, a bond made even more poignant by John’s absence. Lesson: The seemingly small details, moments, and gestures in our leadership carry profound significance and lasting impact.

2. “A Word of Thanks”

After a challenging and exhausting day filled with meetings, decisions, and the weight of responsibility, a teacher quietly appeared at my office door. Bracing myself for another issue to solve, I was instead met with a gentle smile and sincere words: “I just wanted to say thank you. You probably don’t hear it enough.” Her unexpected gratitude moved me deeply, serving as a gentle, transformative reminder of how kindness and acknowledgment can lift our spirits and renew our sense of purpose. Lesson: Every word of appreciation we speak has the potential to uplift and sustain those around us.

3. “The Words of a Child”

During a parent conference discussing support strategies, their first-grade child quietly explored the books on my office shelf, eventually selecting Green Eggs and Ham. As he confidently read aloud, his enthusiasm and ability amazed me. Inspired by his joy, I offered him a book from my collection, and with a smile, he whispered, “You’re my hero.” In truth, his words profoundly touched my heart and reminded me of the true heroes in our schools—our students, whose growth and potential inspire us daily. Lesson: Every interaction with a child echoes profoundly, reminding us why our roles in education matter.

4. “A Heart in the Wild”

My dear friend, Maria Galanis, recently shared a poignant image on X—a heart carefully crafted from seashells by an unknown stranger on a serene beach. Maria’s simple act of sharing this discovery instantly sparked joy and reflection in those who saw it. This beautiful moment powerfully illustrates how our intentional actions, even small gestures left anonymously, leave trails of positivity, hope, and inspiration that uplift others far beyond our immediate circle. Lesson: As leaders, we are called to intentionally leave pieces of our hearts behind, illuminating paths of connection and possibility.

How to Host Your Own Leadership Riffs Jam Session

Looking to cultivate deeper connections, creativity, and heartfelt impact in your school community? Consider hosting a “Leadership Riffs Jam Session”:

  1. Create a Welcoming Space: Offer an inviting, relaxed, 15-minute gathering after school—no pressure, just meaningful conversations.
  2. Invite Everyone to the Table: Emphasize inclusivity, encouraging participation from every role and level.
  3. Lead with Openness: Share your own authentic stories or pose a meaningful question to inspire genuine dialogue.
  4. Encourage Improvisation: Let ideas flow freely, embracing spontaneity to spark innovative and meaningful exchanges.
  5. Reflect and Empower: Conclude with clear insights and actionable steps, empowering everyone to bring their inspired “riffs” to life.

Heartfelt gratitude to Darrin Peppard, Marie Moreno, and Maria Galanis for their invaluable friendship, inspiration, and thought partnership.

Let’s keep riffing from the heart—because the songs we create together truly matter.

The Power of a Check-In

smgaillard Uncategorized , , , , , , , ,

“So, what’s on your turntable?”

That question was a daily gift during my final year of teaching at Bedford High School. It came from my colleague and kindred spirit, Barry Low, our brilliant music teacher. Barry had a way of showing up with his warmth, wisdom, and that irresistible curiosity for all things music.

Back then, it was 2003. I had a small boombox perched in the corner of my English classroom. CDs were still king, and there was always one queued up and ready to play—usually something from The Beatles, Sinatra, or a little Bossa Nova to soundtrack the morning.

Barry would pop in between classes and ask that now-legendary question: “So, what’s on your turntable?”

Those moments felt like sacred mini-sessions—a spontaneous graduate seminar in music. We riffed on everything from Sergio Mendes to Frank Sinatra to Brazilian jazz. Barry always had a new artist to share, a bootleg CD to lend, or a story that made both of us laugh. My students waiting for class would often catch a glimpse of our camaraderie, and they were drawn in by his wit and warmth.

What Barry didn’t know at the time was how much I needed those check-ins. I was carrying some heavy emotional weight. I’d taken an ethical stand in my department and found myself increasingly isolated. There were days when the silence from others felt deafening. But Barry’s daily drop-ins cut through that fog. His kindness, his curiosity, his way of being present—it all reminded me that I wasn’t alone.

And isn’t that the thing? We never really know what someone is carrying when they walk through the doors of the schoolhouse. But one simple check-in can shift everything.

That’s the lesson Barry gave me—and it’s a lesson that’s stayed with me for over 20 years.

In my last blog post, I shared about being rushed to the hospital after a heart episode that occurred at school. I believe now more than ever in the power of a check-in. A few friends reached out after that moment. Their words, texts, phone calls, and prayers helped guide me back to healing. That experience reminded me again that compassion is not complicated. We just need to ask, “How are you really doing?” And mean it.

We live in an era where emojis and likes are often mistaken for connection. But real connection—life-giving connection—happens when we extend our arm, when we lean in, when we show up. As my good friend Max Pizarro says, “Arm extended.” That phrase carries a quiet power. It’s a posture of empathy. A stance of solidarity. An invitation to belong.

Lauren Kaufman recently wrote, “You don’t have to carry it all alone.” That line struck a deep chord. It reminded me of the invisible loads we all carry and the ways we can lighten each other’s burdens just by being present.

Belonging isn’t just a buzzword—it’s essential. Dr. Susie Wise puts it best in her book Design for Belonging: “Being accepted and invited to participate; being a part of something and having the opportunity to show up as yourself.”

That’s the heart of it. Create spaces where others can show up as themselves. Be the colleague who tunes into others. Be the leader who notices. Be the friend who checks in. Because that’s the gig—that’s the leadership jam that transforms classrooms, staff rooms, and lives.

We are the entry points for belonging. Let’s carry that with purpose and with rhythm.

So, what’s on your turntable today? Maybe it’s kindness. Maybe it’s courage. Maybe it’s simply showing up for someone. Whatever it is, press play and let it echo.

Further Reading:

🎧 Design for Belonging by Dr. Susie Wise — Purchase the book here

📝 Lauren Kaufman’s blog post, “Shine A Light, Share A Load” — Read it here

A Special Note of Gratitude on My Last Blog Post:

A special thanks to for the overwhelming response for my last blog post, “A Principal’s Rebirth: Finding Life, Love, & Leadership Again.” That post came from a deep place in my heart and I am humbled by the outreach many of you shared. I want my words to help others and this post serves a salve for others who are struggling. Please feel free to share that post linked HERE. Mental Health is so important and my hope is that this blog is a support for all who need it. I am here for you and I am glad that the world has you in it.

A Principal’s Rebirth: Finding Life, Love, and Leadership Again

smgaillard Uncategorized , , , , , , , , ,

“Call 911.”

These were the last words I heard from our SRO before everything went dark and I fell to the ground.

This was not just a sudden medical emergency—it was the culmination of years spent silently carrying anxiety, stress, and deepening depression. It was the moment my body forced me onto a new path, the first steps toward rebirth.

Last year, I experienced a traumatic health crisis, what doctors described as a cardiac episode triggered by years of relentless anxiety, chronic chest pains, and suffocating Imposter Syndrome. It happened at school, amid the daily chaos and pressures we face as leaders. My body simply gave out.

When I regained consciousness, I was surrounded by paramedics and the incredible members of my office staff, working rapidly to keep me alive. Tears filled my eyes as fear overtook me—I genuinely believed I might never see my wife and our three beautiful daughters again. Breathing was impossible, and the chest pains intensified.

As they rolled me into the ambulance, a flood of thoughts rushed in. I saw my family—moments missed, memories sacrificed. My heart ached thinking of the countless times I’d prioritized my work over my loved ones, placing duty to my school ahead of duty to my family and, ultimately, myself. I called out to God, and then darkness returned.

When I awoke in the hospital, tethered to various medical devices, my heart eased the moment I met my wife’s calming eyes. My oldest daughter was already there, confidently navigating conversations with doctors, demonstrating remarkable strength and poise. Pride overwhelmed me—but so did shame. As her father, I should have been protecting her, not the other way around.

It’s been a full year since that fateful day—a journey of healing, renewal, and rediscovery. My physical health and blood pressure are now managed carefully. Regular therapy sessions every other week have transformed my outlook, grounded in the love and unwavering support of my family and a few deeply cherished friends who check in weekly. Every day, I practice intentional self-care, finally understanding that my identity as a principal should never overshadow my humanity.

As the creator of #CelebrateMonday, I recognize now that I wasn’t celebrating myself. I leaned too heavily on fleeting PLN connections, seeking external validation while overlooking the unconditional, immediate love from my family. While my PLN gifted me a handful of true friendships, I realize my greatest strength comes from being fully present with those who truly cherish me. In pursuit of acceptance, I had unknowingly compromised my core values as a leader.

This past year has gifted me profound clarity and growth. I’ve learned to distinguish between genuine leadership and the seductive illusion often sold through polished selfies, viral gimmicks, and ego-driven platforms. I now seek authenticity, humility, and depth, distancing myself from empty slogans and superficial validations. I am grateful being at a new assignment returning to a school district I truly love and feel sincere support, empowerment, and belonging.

This month marks a year since my rebirth—a new birthday I honor with deep gratitude. My perspective is forever changed. I embrace each moment ahead with my family and true friends, choosing authenticity over illusion, presence over performance, and self-care over self-neglect.

Here’s to life renewed, leadership redefined, and love fully embraced.

Go Electric: A Lesson from Bob Dylan

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

I didn’t expect the tears.

But there I was, sitting in a dimly lit theater, tears streaming down my face as Bob Dylan defiantly sang “Maggie’s Farm” to an audience torn between boos and cheers. I was watching A Complete Unknown with my oldest daughter, Maddie—a thoughtful Christmas gift she knew I’d treasure.

The scene that stopped me in my tracks was Dylan’s iconic performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. Armed with a Fender Stratocaster, he boldly plugged in and “went electric,” breaking away from the acoustic traditions revered by the folk community. The reaction was a mix of outrage and elation. Boos echoed from the purists, but Dylan, backed by members of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band and organist Al Kooper, played on.

As a lifelong fan of the Butterfield Blues Band, seeing actors portray my music heroes—Mike Bloomfield on guitar, Sam Lay on drums, and Jerome Arnold on bass—deeply moved me. Their musicianship had always resonated with me, and witnessing their essence captured on screen added another layer of emotion to an already powerful moment.

This scene, beautifully brought to life by Timothée Chalamet as Dylan, is more than just a snapshot in music history. It’s a testament to creative courage.

Resonating with Dylan’s Defiance

I’ve watched the documentaries, taught this moment in my high school English classes, and pored over Elijah Wald’s Dylan Goes Electric. I even dedicated an episode of my Principal Liner Notes podcast to it. Yet, seeing it unfold on the big screen hit differently.

Dylan’s act of “going electric” wasn’t just about plugging in an electric guitar; it was about rejecting the status quo, staying true to his evolving vision, and embracing the risk of change. The boos, the backlash—none of it stopped him. He knew that growth required stepping out of the safe and into the bold.

That lesson transcends the 1960s. For leaders, it’s a call to innovate, to embrace challenges, and to stay true to our core values, even when met with resistance.

The Courage to Play On

As leaders, we often face our own “Newport moments.” Whether it’s introducing a new initiative, rethinking old practices, or simply challenging the comfort of the status quo, there’s always a risk of pushback. People may not immediately understand—or embrace—our vision.

During a recent faculty meeting, I introduced a new approach to teaching and learning. I’ll admit, I was nervous about how it would be received. To ground myself, I brought along my copy of Wald’s Dylan Goes Electric. On the cover was Dylan, guitar in hand, staring down the crowd with quiet resolve. That image reminded me to stay steadfast, to “play on” even when the riffs might not land perfectly with everyone. (See picture below.)

Going electric is about more than innovation. It’s about embodying the courage to grow, to inspire others, and to stay true to our vision. It’s a reminder that, as leaders, we have the responsibility to model resilience and boldness for those we serve.

A Legacy of Creative Courage

Dylan’s 1965 performance is more than a legendary moment in music—it’s a blueprint for leadership. After Newport, Dylan continued to push boundaries, recording groundbreaking albums, earning accolades, and even winning the Nobel Prize for Literature. He didn’t let the boos define him; he let his vision propel him forward.

His story inspires us to embrace creative courage. When we face the naysayers or wrestle with self-doubt, we can hold our heads high, just as Dylan did, and press forward with conviction.

Four Ways Leaders Can “Go Electric”

  1. Stay True to Your Vision: Know your core values and let them guide your actions, even when facing resistance.
  2. Embrace Growth: Innovation often means stepping into the unknown. Take bold steps to evolve and improve.
  3. Play On Through Adversity: Be prepared for challenges. Stay resilient and committed to your vision, even when others push back.
  4. Inspire Others Through Action: Your courage can empower those around you to embrace their own growth and creativity.

Dylan’s journey reminds us that leadership is not about avoiding the boos but about playing on, louder and prouder. So, let’s go electric—and inspire those we lead to do the same.

Link to my “Go Electric” episode of Principal Liner Notes

Playing to Empty Rooms: A Lesson in Perseverance

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

As I write this, the early morning hours find me awake, wrestling with insomnia. It’s around 3:00 a.m., and in the quiet solitude, I decide to revisit this blog. Against my better judgment, I check the stats on a recent post. I know the adage, “Comparison is the thief of joy,” but still, I fall into the trap.

The numbers aren’t encouraging. They stir up a flood of past memories—times when my efforts seemed to fall flat. The book giveaway that garnered no participation. The speaking engagement with an empty room. The book study I excitedly promoted, only to find no one signed up.

I have played to empty rooms. It’s a gut-wrenching experience. You pour your heart into your work, stepping vulnerably onto a stage without a net, only to be met with silence. It feels like validation of your worst fear: that your voice doesn’t matter. That your efforts aren’t enough. The doubt can spiral quickly, pulling you into an abyss that’s hard to climb out of.

I find myself wondering about the lack of engagement with my writing. I tag others and hear no response. I try to support others when tagged, yet often feel like I’m shouting into the void when I press Publish.

Before I sink too deep into this whirlpool of self-doubt, I pause and take a cue from The Reset Mindset by Penny Zenker, a book that has been a lifeline for me recently. The concept of resetting resonates deeply. It’s about an intentional pause—a mindful shift in perspective to open the door to new possibilities. Resetting means revisiting your core purpose and recalibrating your moves with intention.

So here, in this moment of doubt, I reset.

Why do I write? It’s not for stats, clicks, or reposts. It’s for connection. Writing is my bridge—to myself, to others, and to meaning. It’s a way to foster belonging, to reflect, and to find resonance with others navigating the lonely and challenging paths of leadership.

When I embrace this reset mindset, I remember: this moment of doubt is just that—a moment. It doesn’t define me or my work. My writing is not about chasing external validation; it’s about helping others seek meaning in their own leadership journeys. It’s about creating space for reflection and connection.

I remind myself of the moments that truly matter: the time a struggling reader reached out with gratitude after finding solace in my book. The fulfillment of a lifelong dream in publishing a book, The Pepper Effect. The joy of being invited to speak at upcoming conferences like FETC and the North Carolina Middle School Matters Conference. These are the moments that validate my voice and purpose.

And then, as I often do, I think of The Beatles.

In December 1961, before Beatlemania, before sold-out arenas and screaming fans, The Beatles played a gig at the Palais Ballroom in Aldershot. A booking error left the show poorly promoted, and only 18 people attended. Imagine it: the band that would change the world, performing in near obscurity.

But they didn’t let it break them. They played on, laughing and joking through the set, treating it as an opportunity rather than a failure. That moment was just one small chapter in their story—a necessary step on the path to greatness.

Failures happen. We stumble. We fall. And yet, like The Beatles, we get back up and keep playing.

As I stand in my own empty room—whether as a writer or a leader—I hold fast to my purpose. We all must. The value of our voice, our vision, isn’t determined by the size of the audience. It’s found in the connection with that one reader, that one listener, that one colleague who sees and understands your purpose.

When you play to empty rooms, remember: it’s not the end. It’s a pit stop—a chance to hone your craft, to reset, and to move forward.

Someone out there needs your voice. Someone out there is better because of your vision. Take heart in the small moments of connection and press on.

Each moment—success or setback—is a step forward in this journey of leadership and perseverance. Let’s keep playing.

Reflect and Reset for the New Year

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

Reflect and Reset for the New Year

As the year winds down and the calendar inches closer to 2025, I invite you to take a meaningful pause. My hope is that these words reach you during a moment of restoration, where you are embracing time with loved ones, reflecting on your journey, and finding opportunities to recharge physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Winter Break is a gift—a time to clear the noise and center ourselves as we prepare to lead with purpose into the new year.

This past year has been a challenging yet transformative one for me. I reflect on a pivotal moment back in February when a heart episode led to an ambulance ride and a stark reminder of life’s fragility. That experience set me on a path of healing, physically and emotionally. Renewing my dedication to fitness has been a much needed salve. Therapy has helped me confront and overcome anxiety, and the unwavering support of family and friends has kept me grounded. These challenges have not only renewed my faith but have also strengthened my resolve to serve with clarity and gratitude.

In 2024, I rediscovered the beauty of creation and connection. I launched three new podcast series (“Hope Amplified,” “Why The Beatles Matter,” and the upcoming “Chords of Connection”) and overcame my writer’s block to return to this blog, laying the groundwork for a new book. I also concluded “The Principal Liner Notes Podcast” with the feeling of satisfying closure and the hope of exploring new territories of expression. Most importantly, I learned to savor life’s small moments—the ones that weave together into a tapestry of hope, joy, and connection. Letting go of toxic ties and re-embracing meaningful relationships has been a powerful act of resetting my personal and professional compass.

The word “reset” has emerged as my guiding star for 2025. It first resonated with me during a professional development session on leadership, where I encountered Penny Zenker’s The Reset Mindset. Her definition of a reset mindset—“a way of thinking that focuses on dynamic reassessment and the willingness to reinvent”—perfectly encapsulates what leaders need to navigate challenges and inspire reinvention within their teams. The concept reappeared during a keynote at a leadership conference, and a trusted thought partner encouraged me to dive deeper into Zenker’s work. I’m savoring the insights from this book, which validates my journey and offers actionable steps for growth and leadership.

As we prepare to embrace 2025, I encourage us to adopt a Reset Mindset—one that empowers us to pause, reassess, and reinvent with intentionality. Here are four action steps for leaders to reset and lead with renewed purpose:

1. Take Intentional Time to Recharge Daily

Leadership can be all-consuming, but it’s essential to carve out moments each day to refuel. Whether through meditation, exercise, or simply a quiet moment with a cup of coffee, these intentional pauses restore our energy and focus. As Zenker notes, “recharge time” is not a luxury—it’s a necessity for clarity and effectiveness.

2. Revisit Your School’s Vision and Mission with the Faculty

The new year is an ideal time to recalibrate and ensure alignment with your team. Engage your faculty in meaningful conversations about your school’s vision and mission. Reflect together on what’s working, what needs reimagining, and how you can collaboratively set the course for a thriving 2025.

3. Read The Reset Mindset by Penny Zenker with a Thought Partner

Growth is amplified when shared. Invite a trusted colleague or thought partner to join you in reading The Reset Mindset. Use it as a springboard for dialogue, reflection, and the co-creation of strategies to navigate challenges and inspire reinvention within your school community. Discover The Reset Mindset here.

4. Pursue Personal Passions

Leaders are at their best when they bring their whole, authentic selves to the table. Dedicate time to personal pursuits that ignite your joy—whether it’s workouts, exploring new hobbies, or simply trying something new. These moments of personal fulfillment recharge our spirits and fuel our leadership.

Reflecting on 2024, I’m reminded of how my favorite band, The Beatles, exemplified the art of the reset. After the tumultuous 1966 World Tour, they reinvented themselves as “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” creating a timeless masterpiece. Later, during the “Get Back/Let It Be” sessions, they overcame discord to perform live once again, rediscovering their connection as a band. These moments of reinvention hold lessons for us as leaders—to embrace change, foster collaboration, and find new possibilities amid challenges. Explore these stories in The Pepper Effect: Tap into the Magic of Creativity, Collaboration, and Innovation.

As I step into 2025, I carry forward the lessons of intentional resetting—a process that has given me clarity, optimism, and purpose. I look forward to the opportunities ahead, both in my personal journey and within the schoolhouse I am privileged to serve. Together, let’s reset, reassess, and reimagine a brighter future for ourselves and our school communities.

Here’s to 2025—a year of reinvention, resilience, and renewal.

Finding Our Bandmates: Leading with Belonging and Hope in Mind

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

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.