The other day, I was meeting someone for the first time, and—no surprise—The Beatles came up in conversation. I found myself doing what I often do: searching for shared connection, for kindred sparks, for the chords that bring people together.
As I sipped from my well-worn Let It Be coffee mug, I found myself reflecting—not just on my love for the band, but on why I love them so deeply. My thoughts landed in the final scene of The Beatles Anthology documentary, where each Beatle offers a summation of the band’s journey. Paul McCartney’s words have always stuck with me:
“I’m really glad that most of our songs were about love, peace, and understanding.”
That’s the legacy of The Beatles. A body of work grounded in themes that transcend time and trend. Love. Peace. Understanding. Their music is an echo that still resonates across generations, creating belonging, joy, and reflection in all who listen.
That’s the power of legacy.
As I wrap up my 33rd year in education, I find myself tuning in to that word—legacy—and asking what it means in the context of a school year. I think of my good friend, Meghan Lawson, and her powerful book, Legacy of Learning. She writes:
“What you do in your classroom and school matters. In a big way. We are always making an impact on students and colleagues, whether good or bad.”
Legacy is not about ego, applause, or glory. It’s not about showmanship or staged stunts dressed up as leadership. Legacy is about the quiet echoes we leave behind in the lives we’ve touched—the ones who are better because we showed up and stayed the course.
In my office hangs a photo of Walt Disney standing in the middle of a swamp in central Florida, surrounded by blueprints for what would one day become Walt Disney World. He never lived to see it finished. But his vision endured, carried forward by a team who believed in the mission.
I often show that photo to my leadership teams—not because I want us to build castles, but because I want us to believe in what’s possible. It’s a reminder that legacy is built not in isolation, but in collaboration. It takes vision, belief, and a team that leans into each other’s strengths.
This year, I invited our Instructional Leadership Team and School Improvement Team to create an Accomplishment Inventory—a running list of all we had done that positively impacted students. It was a celebration of small wins and shared progress. It was a testament to the legacy we’re building together, moment by moment, step by step.
As this school year nears its close, I offer these reflections and action steps for you to consider:
🎧 Reflect with Intention Take 10 minutes. Journal. Ask yourself: What is the legacy I’ve left this year? Where did I show up? Who did I lift?
📷 Find Your “Swamp” Photo Print or display a photo that symbolizes your long-term vision—the unfinished dream. Revisit it when you need clarity or courage.
📋 Create Your Accomplishment Inventory Alone or with your team, write out the moments that made a difference. Celebrate them. Share them. Build on them.
Legacy isn’t what we say about ourselves. It’s what others say when we’re not in the room. It’s the tone we set, the hope we pass on, the lives we quietly change.
So tune in. Reflect. And keep building. Your echo matters.
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”:
Create a Welcoming Space: Offer an inviting, relaxed, 15-minute gathering after school—no pressure, just meaningful conversations.
Invite Everyone to the Table: Emphasize inclusivity, encouraging participation from every role and level.
Lead with Openness: Share your own authentic stories or pose a meaningful question to inspire genuine dialogue.
Encourage Improvisation: Let ideas flow freely, embracing spontaneity to spark innovative and meaningful exchanges.
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.
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.
📝 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.
There’s something powerful about picking up the guitar, writing the words, and hitting record—even when it feels like no one is tuning in. The greatest artists, thinkers, and change-makers didn’t wait for an audience before they started creating. They played. They wrote. They spoke. They persevered against the silence.
Paul McCartney recorded McCartney alone, layering every instrument himself. Bruce Springsteen stripped it all down and put out Nebraska, unsure if anyone would connect with its raw vulnerability. Nick Drake’s Pink Moon was met with quiet indifference at first, only to become a masterpiece embraced long after he was gone. These albums weren’t made for applause; they were made because the artist had to create.
The same applies to you. Your words, your leadership, your creativity—it all matters, even if it feels like no one is paying attention. Keep writing the blog. Keep crafting the lesson. Keep showing up for your students and colleagues. Someone, somewhere, will be moved by your work when they need it most.
The silence isn’t a signal to stop. It’s an invitation to keep going. #LeadershipRiffs
The other day, I found myself in pre-production mode for an ASCD Expert Webinar I’m co-facilitating with Dr. Andrea Trudeau. We were just moments away from going live—an exciting milestone in our partnership with ISTE-ASCD to explore the power of principal-librarian collaboration.
Despite having delivered keynotes, facilitated countless meetings, and never being one to run out of words, I felt a twinge of nervous energy. Andrea and I had carefully planned this series, designed to help principals and librarians cultivate belonging through meaningful partnerships. Still, the unknown had me teetering on the edge of speechlessness.
Then, as our “executive producer,” ISTE-ASCD Senior Manager for Community Engagement Margaret McGuinness, prepared to hit the button to go live, I centered myself in a simple truth and voiced the following: If we connect just one principal with one librarian, we’ve done our job. Andrea and Margaret nodded in agreement, and together, we stepped into uncharted territory. The webinar was a success and I believe both Andrea and I were able to help others build some bridges that day.
That’s the thing about belonging—it starts with a single step. A single connection. A single moment of shared purpose.
The Power of a Ripple
It’s easy to hesitate when stepping into something new. But what if The Beatles had given up when they played to an audience of just 18 people early in their career? Instead of letting the small crowd deter them, they leaned into the moment. They played their hearts out, laughed at the absurdity, and kept going. That spirit of persistence and joy shaped their journey—and, in turn, has inspired mine.
The same principle applies to leadership. Impact isn’t measured in likes, viral moments, or fleeting trends. It’s about connection. It’s about the quiet, intentional moves that build belonging—moves that ripple outward in ways we may never fully see.
I think of my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. McMonagle, who saw something in me before I saw it in myself. With a single conversation, she opened my world to literature, art, critical thinking—and yes, The Beatles. That moment still echoes in my leadership today.
Tuning into Belonging
As school leaders, our role isn’t to chase the spotlight. It’s to cultivate an environment where every student, every teacher, and every staff member feels seen, heard, and valued. That kind of belonging isn’t built in grand gestures but in the everyday moments:
🎸 A handwritten note on a teacher’s desk reminding them that their work matters. 🎸 A lunchtime conversation with a student that shows them they belong. 🎸 A simple high-five in the hallway that lets someone know they are valued. 🎸 An intentional partnership that strengthens the fabric of a school community.
These small moves create big ripples.
Join the Conversation
That’s exactly what Andrea and I are exploring in our ongoing webinar series, The Power of Partnership: Enhancing School Success Through Principal and Librarian Collaboration. Through these 30-minute sessions, we’re diving into practical ways to align goals, foster communication, and leverage library resources to support student success. This journey will culminate at ISTELive 25 and ASCD Annual Conference 25 in San Antonio where we will present our work.
Let’s keep the conversation going. Join us, engage in the dialogue, and lean into the work that truly lasts.
Earlier this week, Beatles fans around the world commemorated the 56th anniversary of their final live performance—the legendary rooftop concert atop Apple Records. Captured in Get Back and memorialized in Let It Be, this moment was their live swan song, a testament to creative courage and collaboration.
Last week, I wrote about Rooftop Moments—the bold, defining moments that school leaders should cultivate with their teams. But there’s another, lesser-known moment in Beatles history that happened the day after that performance. A simple yet profound leadership move.
On January 31, 1969, Paul McCartney sent Ringo Starr a postcard that read:
“You are the greatest drummer in the world. Really.”
This wasn’t a public accolade or a grand gesture. It was a handwritten note—one musician reaching out to another, reinforcing connection and belonging. A small moment, but a significant one.
As school leaders, we talk about culture-building, trust, and recognition. Shoutouts in memos or emails are a start, but I’ve come to realize they often feel transactional, fleeting. Teachers deserve more than a quick mention in a newsletter that might be skimmed and forgotten. True belonging is built in the quiet, intentional moments—through handwritten notes and meaningful feedback.
The Power of a Handwritten Note
At Charles England Elementary, we start each faculty meeting with Praise and Thanks—a time to share shoutouts and gratitude. It sets a positive tone and creates psychological safety. But not everyone feels comfortable speaking in a large group, and exhaustion can sometimes make participation hard.
At a recent meeting, I placed blank Energy Bus-themed notes (inspired by Jon Gordon’s book) on tables and asked staff to write a message of gratitude to a colleague. No prompts, no pressure—just a moment to reflect and uplift. As I looked around, I saw teachers smiling, some wiping away tears, completely immersed in the moment. The next day, those notes found their way into mailboxes, and the ripple effect of encouragement began.
A handwritten note isn’t just ink on paper—it’s a tangible reminder that someone sees you. That your work matters. That you belong.
The Leadership Move: 30-Second Feedback
Another way we are reinforcing belonging is through 30-second feedback, a practice inspired by Mike Rutherford’s Seven Tools for Developing Teachers and Teaching (link). This simple but powerful strategy involves stopping into a classroom, identifying one specific positive thing, and sharing that feedback—either verbally or in a quick note.
Here’s what makes it work:
It’s not evaluative—just pure affirmation of great teaching.
It’s quick but intentional—a handwritten note, a short hallway chat, or a sticky note left on a desk.
It highlights strengths—no jargon, no checklist, just celebrating a moment of impact.
It builds connection—leaders engaging with teachers in a meaningful way, beyond scheduled observations.
I keep a pocketful of blank Post-its and make it a goal to visit at least three classrooms a day, leaving behind 30-second feedback. It’s transformed how teachers feel about their work. They light up, just like I imagine Ringo did when he read Paul’s postcard.
Four Ways to Build Belonging with Handwritten Notes & 30-Second Feedback
Commit to Daily Touchpoints
Visit three teachers a day and leave either a quick verbal or written affirmation.
Track your visits to ensure everyone receives meaningful recognition.
Use Specific Praise
Instead of “Great lesson!” try: “The way you engaged students in discussion today was fantastic. I could see their excitement!”
Authentic, detailed praise carries weight.
Make Handwritten Notes a Habit
Keep blank notecards or sticky notes handy.
Surprise staff with a handwritten note in their mailbox or taped to their door.
Encourage Peer-to-Peer Recognition
Incorporate note-writing into staff meetings or PLCs.
Provide postcards or themed templates to make it easy and fun.
A Legacy of Belonging
Think about the impact: just 90 seconds a day dedicated to 30-second feedback builds a culture where teachers feel seen, valued, and empowered. Multiply that over a school year, and you’ve created an environment where trust and belonging flourish.
As Meghan Lawson (link) reminds us in Legacy of Learning, these small wins shape the culture of a school. They’re the moments that keep teachers inspired and engaged.
56 years later, I’m still moved by a simple postcard between bandmates. It reminds me that leadership isn’t always about the big moves—it’s about the small, consistent moments of connection that build something lasting. Just like The Beatles, our legacy as educators is one of collaboration, impact, and belonging.
What’s your next leadership move? Maybe it’s as simple as writing a note.
I’ve written and rewritten this blog post countless times in my mind. It has been weighing on my heart, especially after navigating a week filled with a few setbacks. Nothing catastrophic, but still moments of dejection that linger. One of those moments was particularly difficult: an idea I had for a collaborative book was taken in a new direction—without me.
As someone who values collaboration and the joy it brings, I’ve learned that I need to be more mindful of whom I choose to collaborate with. Seeing my work and ideas rebranded as someone else’s originality hurt deeply. It stung because the creative journey is already fraught with battles against Imposter Syndrome and anxiety. These emotions creep in especially when I venture into new creative territory: Will it be good enough? Will people understand what I’m trying to do? When someone else quickly disinvites you from a project and takes it solo, it’s a painful reminder of the delicate steps needed to protect your own creative vision.
Late last year, I thought I had cracked the code on a follow-up to my first book, The Pepper Effect. I had an outline, a vision, and an unshakable drive. But that momentum fizzled as life threw its challenges my way. Stress, high blood pressure, and self-doubt culminated in a health scare that landed me in the hospital. It was a wake-up call. With the support of my incredible wife, my family, my therapist, and my faith, I began to rebuild—both physically and emotionally. Part of that rebuilding process involved reconnecting with my writing. Blogging weekly became my creative anchor, a way to keep my writing muscles intact and grooving. Each blog post has been a step forward, a way to regain confidence and prepare myself for the marathon of writing another book.
The recent letdown with the collaborative book idea is a chapter I’m reframing not as failure, but as a lesson learned. It’s a reminder to trust my vision, something I wrote about extensively in The Pepper Effect. Sure, it stings to see accolades being given for an idea that I helped shape, but as Mel Robbins writes in The Let Them Theory, I can’t let other people’s actions control my journey. Let them take their version of the idea, I tell myself. Let me move forward with my vision. And as my therapist often reminds me, “…and that’s okay.”
When I need inspiration, I return to The Beatles. They are my creative North Star. My first book explored how their story is a template for creativity, collaboration, and innovation. My follow-up book, which I’m calling The Let It Be Effect, will continue in that vein, diving into the Get Back/Let It Be era. If you’ve followed me on social media, read my blogs, or listened to my podcasts, you’ve seen glimpses of this concept. The Let It Be Effect will build on the four tenets of The Pepper Effect (Believe in your vision, Believe in your masterpiece, Believe in your collaborators, Ignore the Naysayers), but it will also introduce something new: the idea of the Rooftop Moment.
The Rooftop Moment is inspired by the Beatles’ legendary final live performance in January 1969. During the recording of what would become the Let It Be album, the band faced immense challenges. They hadn’t performed live in three years, there were creative differences, and at one point, George Harrison even quit the band. Despite all this, they decided to perform—not in a grand concert hall, but on the rooftop of their Apple Corps headquarters in London. It was a cold January day, and the decision to perform wasn’t finalized until the last minute. According to director Michael Lindsay-Hogg, John Lennon’s decisive words were, “F— it—let’s go do it.”
And they did. The Beatles, joined by keyboardist Billy Preston, walked up to the rooftop and made history. That performance became their iconic Rooftop Concert, a moment of creative triumph amidst doubt and adversity. It was the final time they performed live together, and it remains a testament to the power of taking bold action despite uncertainty.
The Rooftop Moment is about just that: taking a dynamic leap of creative courage when the odds feel overwhelming. It’s about playing your gig, painting your masterpiece, or writing your book, even when doubt tries to hold you back. The Beatles ignored convention and their own self-doubts to create something unforgettable. I know I need to do the same with my follow-up book.
Let the critics and naysayers have their opinions. Let them. As for me, I’ll aim for my Rooftop Moment—that decisive act of putting my creativity into the world, no matter what. I’ll let the inspiration flow and trust that what I create will resonate with those who need it most. And that’s okay.
I hope this inspires you to find your own Rooftop Moment. Whether it’s a project you’ve been hesitant to start, a challenge you’re ready to face, or a dream you’ve been quietly nurturing, remember: the world is waiting for your masterpiece. Let it be.
Four Moves to Create Your Rooftop Moment:
Lead with Vulnerability: Share your passion or a creative idea with your team or community, even if it feels risky. Vulnerability fosters connection and courage. For me, this was bringing my guitar to school and sharing a song I wrote based on our school’s core values during grade-level assemblies. It was risky, but it created a memorable and inspiring moment for my students and staff.
Model Risk-Taking: Show your team that it’s okay to step outside their comfort zones by doing it yourself. Whether it’s trying a new teaching strategy or presenting an innovative idea, your example can inspire others to embrace risks.
Create Space for Creativity: Provide opportunities for your staff and students to experiment and express their ideas. This could be through collaborative brainstorming sessions, innovation labs, or simply encouraging them to bring their unique talents to the table.
Celebrate the Journey: Acknowledge the effort and courage it takes to create something new, even if the outcome isn’t perfect. Recognizing progress builds momentum and reinforces the value of the creative process.
Sometimes you have to aim for what I call that Rooftop Moment—that moment where you take a move for dynamic creative action amidst overwhelming odds and you simply play your gig, paint your masterpiece, write your book. The Beatles ignored convention and their own self-doubts and applied the Let Them theory in their own way. I know I have to do the same in writing my book follow-up because I know I have another book in me and that’s ok.
Rejection is a reality. It happens, and it stings. Sometimes, the worst rejection isn’t from others who naysay, doubt, or echo endlessly the phrases, “We’ve never done it this way…” or “We always have…” Often, it’s the rejection we inflict upon ourselves that hurts the most.
The Beatles faced rejection head-on. In my 2018 book, The Pepper Effect, I recount their infamous rejection by Decca Records in 1962. The label dismissed them with the now-legendary phrase: “Guitar groups are on their way out.” Yet, the Beatles didn’t let that stop them. Instead, they adopted a “reset mindset” amidst the setback. They persevered, refined their craft, and sought opportunities elsewhere. Their resilience led to a groundbreaking partnership with producer George Martin and, eventually, music that would change the world.
Recently, I revisited the concept of resilience while reading Penny Zenker’s The Reset Mindset. Zenker outlines a three-step process for overcoming both personal and professional setbacks: Step Back, Get Perspective, and Realign. Her approach emphasizes mindful choices and intentional progress. The Beatles, whether consciously or not, exemplified this mindset. They regrouped, made strategic changes (including bringing Ringo Starr into the band), and doubled down on their songwriting. Their determination and shared vision propelled them to unimaginable heights.
I’ve endured my own share of rejection—writer’s block, rejected book proposals, pilfered ideas from unreliable collaborators, and negative problem admirers eclipsing possibilities. At times, I’ve been my harshest critic, rejecting myself before anyone else had the chance. Pressing “Publish” on a blog post can feel like stepping off a ledge, wondering if anyone will read it or if it will resonate. Recording a podcast episode Yet, a trusted thought partner recently reminded me to let my words go—to trust they’ll land where they’re meant to do so.
This advice brought to mind the Beatles’ 1968 self-titled album, commonly known as the “White Album.” This sprawling, 30-song masterpiece faced criticism for being too long or unfocused. Paul McCartney’s response? “It’s great, it sold, it’s the bloody Beatles’ White Album, shut up!” That unapologetic confidence is a lesson in staying true to one’s vision and maintaining a reset mindset.
I channeled that spirit recently when deciding whether to bring my guitar to a school assembly. As a new principal at my school, I felt hesitation. I have been a principal for 16 years and I have lugged my guitar to school for various events so this was not first gig with a guitar in the schoolhouse. Yet, I endured a series of stumbling doubts with bringing my guitar along to school. Would this feel out of place? Would it connect? But in the end, I applied the Reset Mindset. I took an intentional step back to reflect and wonder. I focused on my purpose: creating a joyful, meaningful moment for our students. I decided to move forward, tune into building a culture of belonging for students and faculty, and bring my beloved guitar to the scheduled grade level assemblies. Music is an entry point for others and serves a divine thread that connects us to our shared humanity.
The butterflies didn’t stop as I hurriedly carried my guitar into school, but when I sat down in front of our first graders and began to play, I knew I’d made the right choice. The laughter, joy, and connection we shared affirmed the decision. It was a reminder of the power of leading with authenticity and purpose. I love playing music and I wanted to be unabashedly comfortable with my best self.
Recently, on my podcast Why The Beatles Matter, I had a conversation with Dr. Donya Ball that gave me even more perspective on rejection. It was serendipitous that she brought up the idea of leaders leaning into and accepting rejection. As I was just working on this blog post before our conversation, I readily welcomed her insight on rejection. She shared how we, as leaders, don’t talk about rejection enough and how it’s a necessary part of growth. I deeply appreciated her real talk on this reality. Rejection, she said, is an opportunity to renew, recalibrate, and re-focus. It’s another way to adapt the Reset Mindset—seeing rejection not as the end or the finality of an idea, but as a stepping stone to connect with others, build collaborative coalitions, or simply reset.
As leaders, our gig is to create meaningful moments that inspire, connect, and uplift. When we embrace resilience and focus on our purpose, we transcend rejection and lead from a place of authenticity.
Four Leadership Moves Inspired by The Beatles and the Reset Mindset:
Evolve and Adapt: The Beatles didn’t let their rejection by Decca define them. They stepped back, reflected on what they needed, and made a bold move by bringing in Ringo Starr. This pivotal decision transformed their sound and solidified their lineup, exemplifying the importance of adapting to move forward.
Collaborate with Vision: Recognizing the need for a fresh perspective, the Beatles partnered with George Martin, who brought a new dimension to their music. This collaboration highlighted the power of seeking thought partners who align with your vision and elevate your work.
Refine Your Craft: After their setback at the failed Decca Records Audition, the Beatles didn’t stagnate. They doubled down on songwriting, tirelessly honing their skills and experimenting with new ideas. This relentless pursuit of excellence demonstrates how leaders can use rejection as fuel to refine their craft.
Stay True to Your Purpose: Despite criticism and pushback, The Beatles never abandoned their creative vision. Whether it was the ambitious scope of the “White Album” or their genre-defying innovations, they stayed true to their purpose, leading with authenticity and confidence.
The importance of tuning into the Reset Mindset cannot be overstated. As leaders, modeling this mindset for others empowers our teams and fosters resilience. Let’s embrace the journey together and inspire others to do the same.
Resources to Dig Deeper for Reflection and Action
Tune in to the upcoming episode of my podcast, Why The Beatles Matter, where I continue this conversation with Dr. Donya Ball. Her insights on leadership, rejection, and authenticity are not to be missed. Plus, she’s a joy to engage in for conversation! You can also learn more about her work and check out her TEDx Talk at https://www.donyaball.com/.
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”
Stay True to Your Vision: Know your core values and let them guide your actions, even when facing resistance.
Embrace Growth: Innovation often means stepping into the unknown. Take bold steps to evolve and improve.
Play On Through Adversity: Be prepared for challenges. Stay resilient and committed to your vision, even when others push back.
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.
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 Mindsetby 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.
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.
Leadership Liner Notes: Sean Gaillard 