The Beatles

Pivoting Toward Presence: A Reflection on Love, Leadership, and Lennon

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Today marks what would have been John Lennon’s 85th birthday. Had he not been so cruelly taken from the world, I imagine him surrounded by love, his wife, his sons, and perhaps a few close friends gathered around a cake. I can almost see John smiling, glasses glinting in the candlelight, grateful for another revolution around the sun. Grateful simply to be a husband and father.

Of course, this is a dream, a what if forever suspended in time. John Lennon is not with us. Yet every time we hear Imagine, or spin a Beatles record that once lifted the world, his spirit continues to sing. His ideas, his courage, and his music are eternal.

As I think about John’s life today, I am reminded of the profound pivot he made in his final years, a pivot that leaders, including myself, can learn from. After a painful separation from Yoko Ono, John chose to retreat from the spotlight. He became a stay at home father. He walked away from fame, record contracts, and the demands of celebrity life to raise his young son, Sean. He called this period his “househusband years.” Five years of seclusion. Five years of being present.

In that quiet season, John found peace. He cooked, baked bread, and rediscovered the small joys of daily life. He walked through Central Park and strolled with Yoko and Sean, savoring the moments that so many of us rush past. He wrote songs again, not for charts or critics, but from the heart. When he finally returned to the studio in 1980, he released Double Fantasy, a musical conversation between himself and Yoko celebrating love, family, and renewal. The album earned a Grammy for Album of the Year, a posthumous echo of his artistry at its most honest.

One song from that record, Beautiful Boy, contains a line that has haunted and guided me for years:
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

That lyric hits harder as I get older. I have lived its truth. As a husband, father, and leader, I have had moments when my presence was only partial, physically there but mentally buried in a phone, a to do list, or the next big initiative. When I faced my first serious health setback a year and a half ago, lying in a hospital room with machines beeping around me, I thought of all the moments I had missed. I remember wondering: Would I get to tell my children I loved them again? Would I see my wife’s beautiful smile? Would I have another chance to simply be, not as a principal, not as a leader, but as a husband, father, son, brother, and friend?

Thankfully, I was granted another chance. I am still learning and growing even as those health setbacks keep coming. That experience in the hospital room changed me. It reminded me that leadership is not just about impact, innovation, or outcomes. It is about love. It is about being present for the people who give your life meaning.

As leaders, we can lose ourselves in the rhythm of meetings, emails, and deadlines. The work matters, but so do the quiet moments that recharge our hearts. The people who know us beyond our title need us, not the version that is always on, but the one that listens, laughs, and lingers a little longer at the dinner table.

John Lennon’s decision to step away from the noise and focus on family was not an escape. It was an act of courage. It was his pivot into something beautiful.

So, what does that mean for us?

Leadership Action Steps: Simple Pivots into Something Beautiful

  1. Write for five minutes.
    End your day with a brief journal reflection, one sentence of gratitude or one small victory that made you smile.
  2. Call someone who matters.
    Reach out to a friend or loved one, not with an agenda, but simply to say, I’m thinking of you.
  3. Schedule sacred time.
    Block out 30 minutes this week for uninterrupted family time, a walk, or a shared meal. Treat it like your most important meeting and protect it.
  4. Be fully present.
    Put the phone away. Turn off notifications. Look into the eyes of the people you love and listen with your whole self.
  5. Revisit Your Pivot Song.
    Choose a song that helps you pause and reconnect with what truly matters. For me, it is Beautiful Boy by John Lennon, a reminder that love, presence, and purpose are the greatest compositions of all. John wrote that song for his youngest son and it serves as reminder that I must always pivot into fatherhood and being there for my three daughters.

John Lennon did not know that his five year retreat would be the last chapter of his life. Yet in those years, he created the most meaningful work of all: love, presence, and peace. His story challenges us to do the same. To pause. To connect. To pivot into something beautiful before life happens while we are busy making other plans.

What’s Right: A Pivot Into Bright Stops

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A Guest Blog Post for Dave Burgess Consulting, Inc!

Recently, I had the honor of writing a guest post for my publisher, Dave Burgess Consulting, Inc.! Their support goes back to the very beginning, when the team believed in an idea I had for a book. That idea became The Pepper Effect—my mash-up love letter to The Beatles and education. I’ll always be grateful for their belief in this project.

This new guest post grew out of some reflections I’ve been having on The Pepper Effect. It was a refreshing chance to wander down a meaningful rabbit hole as I continue work on my next book, Leadership Riffs, also with Dave Burgess Consulting.

You can read the post here: What’s Right: A Pivot Into Bright Spots. I’d love to hear your thoughts! Leave a comment, share it, or tag me on your favorite social media platform so we can keep the conversation going.

A huge thank-you to Dave Burgess and Tara Martin of #dbcincbooks for their belief, encouragement, and ongoing support!

When Support Becomes a Habit

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There is a weight that many are carrying right now. Some of it is visible and most of it is hidden. Leadership at its core can be an isolating gig. Doubts, setbacks, alienation from our purpose all of these are real. They come uninvited and often linger longer than we want.

What I have been learning, sometimes the hard way, is that support cannot be an afterthought. It has to be a habit. It is not just the occasional check-in, but the daily rhythm of leaning in to each other. Asking the extra question. Offering the listening ear. Sending the text that says, I am here.

The truth is that many of us do not want to share what we are going through. We mask our struggles with busyness or a brave face. Beneath the surface, loneliness and doubt gnaw away. That is when support becomes essential. Not as a sign of weakness, but as an act of survival.

I hear my Dad’s voice reminding me to hold my head high. Those words echo differently for me now. Holding your head high does not mean carrying everything alone. It means having the courage to reach out, to accept the hand that is extended, and to remember that someone else’s strength can steady us until we find our own again.

Support is not only about being present. It is about showing visible belief. When The Beatles were at their most fractured during the “Let It Be” sessions, Billy Preston walked into the studio. His presence was not just about playing keys. It was about belief. His energy and positivity shifted the atmosphere. He reminded them of what they could be when they trusted each other. That kind of support does not hide in the background. It is felt, seen, and heard.

History gives us the same lesson. When Nelson Mandela emerged from 27 years in prison, he carried a vision of reconciliation that could have faltered under the weight of bitterness. He surrounded himself with those who not only supported him, but visibly believed in the possibility of a different South Africa. Their belief gave him courage to keep moving forward.

And in my own journey, after a recent health scare, I realized that what helped most was not just colleagues covering tasks. It was their visible belief in me. Their check-ins, their words, their encouragement. It was more than help. It was the steady reminder that I was not alone, that they believed in me enough to carry the load until I could stand tall again.

As leaders, as colleagues, as human beings, we have the power to give that kind of support. To make belief tangible. To remind others of their worth when they cannot see it themselves.

Support has to be a habit. A daily practice of visible belief. Because in the end that is how we move forward. That is how we remember we are not alone. And that is how we hold our heads high together.

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:

Stillness Is the Song: Leadership Lessons from the Waiting

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“The waiting is the hardest part.”-Tom Petty (1981)

As I continue my sojourn in Maine, I gaze upon the lake on another cool summer morning. A warm cup of coffee is my company along with the occasional sparkles smiling at me on the water and a lone loon swimming alongside this morning reverie in the distance.

There’s a certain kind of silence that settles in when your waiting. It’s not always peaceful. It’s filled with hope, doubt, questions, and whispers of “what if.” That’s where I have been reflecting upon lately. There is an art to waiting that leaders must take hold of and learn to appreciate. Many look to us as a lamppost on a dark, foggy night. It is important that we make that the light we carry within, our leadership core, is intact, balanced, and focused.

The Struggle of Waiting

It is important to acknowledge the truth. Waiting is frustrating. It is excruciating into its life span and sometimes I allow negative moments to roam rent free in my head. I try to cope with waiting by cueing up familiar songs to carry me through the anxiety of waiting: “The Waiting” by Tom Petty, “Tired of Waiting for You” by The Kinks, or “I Am Waiting” by The Rolling Stones (a great deep cut by them from my favorite album of theirs, “Aftermath.”) Speaking of the Stones, I even imagine myself in their classic “Waiting on a Friend” video hanging out on the stoop with Mick Jagger looking for Keith Richards. Yet, the bottom line remains for me that waiting is just plain hard.

As leaders, we are wired to take action, make moves, plan next steps. We calculate, strategize, and analyze. There is urgency in the air that needs our focus and we called to act. The clock is ticking, people need decisions, and our vision and mission to serve our school community must be maintain momentum.

Sometimes the most important growth most important growth happens when nothing appears to be happening. For leaders, waiting can feel like failure. It can compel us to embrace the abysmal and tune into second-guesses and should haves. But in this stillness, I’m learning that not moving doesn’t mean not growing.

Waiting is an opportunity.

A Leadership Riff in the Shadows: George’s Quiet Resilience

George Harrison waited. He always did. Whether it was waiting for his guitar solo cue during the early days of The Beatles or waiting for spiritual enlightenment during his pursuit of Transcendental Meditation, George simply waited. He endured a long journey to have his voice and songs recognized within The Beatles. He waited in the shadow of the successful and thriving shadow of the Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership for years. He watched song after song of his get passed over. But instead of giving up and surrendering to doubt, he kept writing. Occasionally, a song would be accepted and many of his songs in The Beatles still resonate today like “Something,” “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and “Here Comes The Sun.”

When the time finally came, George Harrison released the epic-three album, “All Things Must Pass.” This was an album of such depth, resonance, and majesty that it proved to the waiting wasn’t a waste; rather, it was a gathering. That gathering included an all-star line up musicians ranging from former bandmate, Ringo Starr, to Eric Clapton, Klaus Voorman, and all members of Badfinger. Phil Spector co-produced and served the album up with the Wall of Sound. It was filled with songs that The Beatles had rejected and hits that still spin today like “My Sweet Lord” and “What Is Life.”

George Harrison proved that waiting does not have to yield in an abrupt ending. Waiting can compel something beautiful to happen.

Leadership Wait Time

Waiting is a leadership discipline. It can take years to cultivate and nuance for one’s own leadership practice. Waiting teaches us patience, humility, faith, and emotional agility. In the classroom, teachers use “wait time” as a move to create space for students to pause, think, and reflect. It is an intentional pause that is meant to create belonging for students who may feel bashful at responding or to set the stage for a teachable moment to resonate within the classroom.

Leaders have wait time, too. The waiting room is where character gets built. It’s where we learn to lead without control, to listen instead of speak, to reflect instead of react.

As leaders, we have to cultivate space for waiting to ignite reflection. We have to give permission for ourselves to roam into that space to discover new things within ourselves and the people we serve.

This is not always easy and it can be ponderous. I reflect upon the moments of when I am challenged to wait as a leader and as an individual. Within the frustration of the moments of endless waiting, I have sometimes missed those opportunities for reflection and positivity. It’s easy to default to damning doubts and shifting the blame to some universe conspiring against me. Waiting does not have to be negative. We have to shift the paradigm on waiting to something akin to opportunity.

Brene Brown expressed this best for leaders, “Patience is not about waiting. It’s about how we behave while we’re waiting.” This is where we must be very cognizant of how we respond and move during our leadership wait time. We model the expectations and set the tone in our moves. Many look us to be that solid beacon of calm during any level of wait time and it’s important that we lead with grace, poise, and purpose during a leadership wait time.

Waiting can be a pressure cooker for leaders, but it’s important to maintain our core during those ponderous wait times.

There may have been pressure to fill a vacancy quickly whether it was for a teacher, assistant principal, or support staff member. But instead of rushing, you held out for the right fit. You waited, trusted your instincts, and stayed aligned with your school’s mission and values. And when that person arrived, it was clear they were the one. They didn’t just fill a role; they elevated the culture, built trust, and made a lasting impact on students and staff.

That moment, that hire validated the wait. The right choice often takes time.

A Quiet Riff to Carry Forward

Waiting is not weakness. It’s part of the journey. The silence we endure on a decision to be made or an action to occur is not empty. The silence may be an opportunity for you to compose a new song you don’t yet hear. I think of a time during my first principalship when our school was waiting for the outcome of our magnet grant application. The waiting was far-reaching and I remember checking my inbox every day several minutes at a time. This lasted for months and it was not pleasant. The waiting period did bring the faculty closer together as we shared this collective anticipation.

Looking back, it was the waiting that not only bonded us but it helped us persevere when we found out that we didn’t get the grant. The community that was forged during this period lead our school to being the first in the district to successfully implement a non-funded magnet. We had a positive impact on kids and achievement due to the community that was forged during the waiting game.

The truth is, we don’t always get to fast-forward through uncertainty. But we do get to keep showing up with grace, grit, and belief. You can use waiting as an opportunity to model resilience, reflection, and connection with others. And that’s the kind of leadership I want to grow in, one quiet step at a time.

    Three Action Steps to Make Waiting More Meaningful for Your Leadership

    1. Seek Out Thought Partners

    Waiting doesn’t have to be lonely. Use the pause to deepen your leadership bench. Reach out to a mentor, a colleague, or someone who inspires you. Take a spin within your Professional Learning Network (PLN) to seek those people out who can inspire and support you. Share your thoughts and listen to theirs. Thought partnership sharpens perspective, calms uncertainty, and reminds you that you’re not navigating the unknown alone. Collaboration during the waiting season often leads to renewed clarity and creative momentum.

    2. Study Leadership Riffs from History

    Waiting has shaped some of the most significant leaders and movements in history. Lincoln waited through agonizing losses before the tide turned. Mandela waited in a prison cell for 27 years before transforming a nation. Singer-songwriter Carole King waited years to emerge as a solo artist and record her multi-platinum selling masterpiece, Tapestry. Even The Beatles waited through setbacks and missteps before crafting Sgt. Pepper. Explore these stories not just for inspiration, but as evidence that purpose-driven delay can lead to extraordinary outcomes.

    3. Use the Quiet to Bring Your People Closer

    While the external outcome is pending, focus inward. Use this time to connect more deeply with your team. Hold space for listening. Celebrate small wins. Reaffirm your shared mission. Leadership isn’t just about making decisions, it’s about fostering belonging. Waiting offers a powerful window to strengthen community, build trust, and ensure your team feels seen and valued.

    Getting Back: Leadership Riffs from a Quiet Maine Lake

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    Current State

    I’m writing this on a still, cool summer morning beside a lake in Maine. Loons call across the water, pine needles perfume the air, and sunlight pirouettes on gentle waves. After the year-end whirlwind of school life, this New England retreat feels like hitting the reset button; an invitation to get back to what matters.

    Nature’s Prompt to “Lead”

    A few minutes of etymology searching reminded me that “lead” comes from the Old English lǣdan—“to guide” or “to bring forth.” Add the suffix “-ship,” meaning “state or quality,” and leadership becomes the state of bringing forth. That phrase reframes my job description: draw out the gifts, voice, and brilliance already living inside the people I serve.

    The Beatles’ Blueprint

    Getting back isn’t a new idea; The Beatles modeled it in January 1969. They shelved overdubs, circled their instruments, and vowed to play live in the studio: just four bandmates and a friend (thank you, Billy Preston on keyboards). The result was the rooftop concert and the album that still centers me: Let It Be. Their back-to-basics experiment birthed fresh energy, trust, and a legendary final act. I call that ripple The Let It Be Effect—and it’s the heartbeat of my Leadership Riffs mantra.

    When “Innovation” Becomes Noise

    Scroll any feed and you’ll find viral clips of table-top dances, choreographed high-fives, and selfie spectacles masquerading as leadership. Fun has its place, but hype is not the same as guidance. Authentic leaders serve others; they don’t stage-manage them. The Beatles didn’t grab headlines by stunts—they plugged in, faced each other, and played. The best leaders do the same by being present in the marrow of each moment in the schoolhouse and empowering others to share their gifts.

    My Own Get-Back Move

    Before leaving for vacation I hand-wrote a note to every colleague at Charles England. No templates, no mass email—just ink, gratitude, and belief in their gifts. It took hours and cramped my hand, yet each card was a little rooftop concert: proof that I see them, trust them, and am ready to make music together next year.

    Your Lakeside Challenge

    This summer, carve out your version of lakeside stillness:

    • Re-read the book that first lit your leadership fire.
    • Phone the mentor whose wisdom steadies you.
    • Gather teammates around a whiteboard and ask, “How might we…?”
    • Write one genuine note of thanks—no emojis necessary.

    These simple riffs spark innovation while stitching the fabric of belonging and trust that every schoolhouse and every team needs.

    Take the time to get back.
    Get back to what called you.
    Get back to your purpose.
    Get back to the people you serve.

    When we get back to our core, we lead with clarity, conviction, and heart. That’s the gig. That’s the work. Let’s get to it.

    Special thanks to Lauren Kaufman for helping to inspire this blog post! Be sure to check out her amazing and insightful blog site: https://laurenmkaufman.com/.

    A very special thanks to Deb Gaillard for inspiring our visit to Maine! She’s my favorite human and the best person I know!

    A Full Cirlce Moment: The Return of The Principal Liner Notes Podcast

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    Seven years ago today, a lifelong dream came true—I became a published author.

    The Pepper Effect was more than a book. It was a love letter to The Beatles, to education, and to believing in the impossible. I’ll never forget the moving moments that surrounded its publication:
    — My daughter Maddie finding my book on the shelf at Barnes & Noble—the first time I ever saw it in a bookstore.
    — Hugging my parents and seeing the joy and pride on their faces when I handed them their copy.
    — My true Fab Four—my wife and daughters—by my side at my first book signing at Underdog Records.
    — Watching a stage adaptation of The Pepper Effect performed at a school in Canada.

    I’m forever grateful for those moments and for every reader who took the time to read the book, share it, and apply its message in classrooms and schools around the world. If you haven’t read it yet, it’s available here: Order on Amazon.

    Today, something serendipitous happened. On the book birthday of The Pepper Effect, I released a new episode of the #PrincipalLinerNotes podcast—featuring none other than Dave Burgess, the publisher who believed in me and gave my book its wings.

    Our conversation is a celebration of creativity, connection, and passion for education. It’s also the beginning of a short summer season of the podcast, where I’ll be amplifying the voices of those who continue to inspire and lead.

    🎧 Listen here:
    Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/3wUE2MTDzX7vcBnJ9T2yP8?si=yUDdid98TJ6NP7Q5FjZyyQ
    YouTube: https://youtu.be/BxYkq96GBUs

    I’m currently working on another book—fingers crossed that it gets the nod for publication. Until then, thank you for being in the band. Your encouragement, listens, reads, and reflections mean more than I can ever express.

    Feel free to drop me a line at sean@seangaillard.com to share your thoughts on the podcast, the blog, or The Pepper Effect. I’d love to connect.

    Let’s keep riffing.
    —Sean

    New Blog Post: A New URL, A Big Thank You, and a Little Help from My Friends

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    I’m excited to share that Principal Liner Notes now has a new home on the web:
    🎶 seangaillard.com 🎶

    This new site is where you can find all of my blog posts, reflections, podcast updates, and more. You’ll also be the first to hear a big announcement (or two) coming soon—things I’m really excited about and can’t wait to share.

    To those who have followed, subscribed, shared, or just quietly read along—thank you. Your support fuels the creative spark and reminds me that this journey matters.

    Please take a moment to subscribe at seangaillard.com and share it with a friend or fellow educator. I hope it continues to be a place of inspiration, connection, and purpose.

    Today also marks the anniversary of an album that changed the world—Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. That album didn’t just change music, it changed my life. It lit the fire that led to my first book, The Pepper Effect, a celebration of belief, collaboration, and educational leadership.

    📚 Grab your copy here: https://a.co/d/4CD2gLW

    And if you ever want to connect, collaborate, or just say hello, I’d love to hear from you.
    📧 sean@seangaillard.com

    Let’s keep building, growing, and creating together.
    Cool things are coming. Stay tuned.

    ✌️
    —Sean
    #ThePepperEffect #PrincipalLinerNotes #LeadershipRiffs #SgtPepperDay

    The Applause We Don’t Hear

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    The Applause We Don’t Hear

    #PrincipalLinerNotes

    There are moments in leadership—more than we care to admit—when it feels like leadership isn’t there for you.

    You stand in a room and no one greets you. No one looks up. No one notices.

    You offer ideas, vision, care—and it’s met with silence, or worse, indifference.

    You give your best self and sometimes receive no acknowledgment in return.

    The gig is tough. The gig is lonely. The gig will ask you to keep showing up, especially when the room grows quiet. And sometimes, it stays quiet.

    And yet—we still walk in.

    Why?

    Because we’re human.

    Because we crave meaning.

    Because we want to belong just like anyone else.

    I carry what my father taught me in these moments: Hold your head high. Even when no one seems to see you. Especially then.

    And so, I look for the small things.

    The fleeting glances. The quiet nods. The invisible applause.

    Those moments when you know—deep in your gut—that you’re still in the groove.

    I remember those moments when I played in bands. We’d be deep into a tune, and someone across the band space would catch my eye and offer a knowing smile. Just a look. A small moment that said, We’ve got this.

    There’s a video I love of the Dave Brubeck Quartet performing Take Five. During Joe Morello’s legendary drum solo, Brubeck stops playing. He turns from the piano—not to take center stage, but to watch. To admire. To honor. No words. Just presence.

    The Beatles did it, too. During that final rooftop concert, even amid the tension, they stole glances. Smiles. They saw each other. And they saw Billy Preston, too—playing keys right alongside them, lifting the sound, lifting the moment.

    Even as the world watched from the streets below, the real audience wasn’t the crowd down there—it was amidst the band.

    That’s what keeps me going in leadership—the small, true things.

    A student’s unexpected smile.

    A teacher’s thank-you whispered in the hallway.

    A quiet moment where someone sees you—and maybe, just maybe, you see them too.

    We may not always receive the applause. But we can give it.

    We can be the nod.

    We can be the smile.

    We can be the Dave Brubeck who turns his head in full admiration.

    We can be the Beatle who shares a grin in the middle of the chaos.

    Those small moves? They matter.

    They are leadership.

    And when the room is quiet—lead anyway.

    You never know who might be listening for your cue.

    Somewhere in the Universe, Someone Believes in You Completely

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    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.