I’ve been waiting for this magical moment when I moved from being a teacher to being a leader. When I walked out of my classroom, a piece of my heart broke that I wondered if I’d ever have again. As a classroom teacher, I was always so inspired by learning. When I saw a kid overcome struggle, reach out in curiosity, or come up with a new idea, it made me work even harder. It’s what motivated me. That feeling of teaching for me? Supporting others. Giving your passion to make an impact so that they can experience a level of growth and learning. It’s what made my classroom tick. It’s what makes me tick. It still does. A part of me thought I might be losing that forever. It scared me. But I let go anyway.
So “the magical moment” didn’t happen when I set up my office. It sure didn’t happen when I got my new business cards. It didn’t even happen when a kid called me “The Principal.” The details don’t even matter. Maybe I thought balloons were going to drop from the sky when it happened and I’d receive a scepter that had a big sparkly ball on the end that glows in the dark when I really felt like I’d made the switch from teacher to leader.
But today I realized that moment isn’t what I’ve been waiting for. The switch doesn’t even really exist. I’m the same person this year I was last year. I’m guiding, teaching, growing, supporting, and doing whatever needs to be done to make sure other people have what they need to grow. I’m working alongside people, willing to ask them the tough questions, because that’s the path to growth. The learning that I believe in, that’s written on my heart, it was there with me in my classroom, and it’s with me no matter where I go. Learning isn’t defined by four walls. Leading isn’t defined by a title or an office. Leading is learning, out loud.
So at the end of each day, I ask myself two questions, “What went well today?” and then, “What can be better tomorrow?” Because I’m still a learner. That’s the part of myself that I wanted to hold onto. That’s the magic. No balloons, no scepter, but an unabashed willingness to admit when you’re wrong, and do what it takes to improve. Even when it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, and so hard you feel pushed to your limits.
Learning? It feels better than just about anything. And being part of another person’s learning journey? It’s even better than a light up scepter.
When a blog post knocks on the little door in your brain at 5am, you share it. Even if it doesn’t make much sense. If you read this, thank you. Because you are part of my learning journey. Thank you for joining me on it. I didn’t ACTUALLY think I’d get a scepter. 