When people talk about working in education, they often talk about the tiring workload, the never-ending tasks, and the increasing load of training and paperwork. They aren’t wrong. Education requires sacrifice. For many educators, the struggle is real.
Rarely do we hear those same critics say something equally true: There is joy in this work. When you practice seeking joy, you will often find it hidden in places overlooked.
I’m not referring to superficial joy or naïve optimism. I’m talking about real joy, found in meaningful relationships, difficult breakthroughs, and moments that remind us why we entered this profession. There is profound joy in every “aha” moment, teamwork success, and smile on students’ faces.
In this biweekly column, principals and other authorities on school leadership—including researchers, education professors, district administrators, and assistant principals—offer timely and timeless advice for their peers.
After three decades in education, I have come to believe something that may sound paradoxical: The struggle is not separate from the joy. The struggle is the pathway to finding it.
The difficult conversation. The problem without an easy answer. The student who is struggling. That is often where the real work begins. And, sometimes, that is where joy begins, too.
Finding joy in education is not pretending everything is easy. Joy is believing improvement is possible. That people can grow and that students can thrive in spite of struggles. Optimism is not denial. It is discipline.
I experienced this with a student I will refer to as Joe. This past December, his attendance was approaching chronic absenteeism, his grades were declining, and graduation was beginning to feel uncertain. During a difficult conversation, we discussed the consequences of his choices and the opportunities still within his reach. Joe ultimately decided to forgo a planned winter vacation and recommit himself to school. Months later, I found myself shaking his hand at graduation as I handed him his diploma.
In that moment, I was reminded that joy is often found in watching someone choose growth over comfort. Other times, it is found in realizing the student sitting across from us today may become the teacher who changes lives tomorrow.
That was my experience during a recent conversation with another student, who I will call Jane.
Jane came to me upset after feeling disrespected by two adults at school. As we talked about choices and consequences, something deeper emerged. She shared that she had felt disrespected by adults in schools for much of her life, as far back as kindergarten.
She told me she wanted to become a kindergarten teacher to give children a better experience than she had. After hearing her describe this, I told her she was doing something extraordinary: She was transforming adversity and turning it into motivational fuel.
Then I asked her a question that changed the conversation: “Why stop at kindergarten? Come back to high school one day because I need people like you on my staff. Who better to understand struggling students than someone who has walked through struggle herself? Our future students need you to be their trusted adult.”
Jane began tearing up with joy. She said the conversation affirmed what was already in her heart to do.
As our time together came to a close, I offered her something she didn’t expect: “Finish your college degree, and I will offer you a job on the spot!”
Yes, education can be a struggle. However, the answer is not to avoid that struggle but to help students find better ways to handle difficult situations.
The same is true when dealing with the adults in our schools. One teacher, who I will call Stephanie, was disappointed after applying for two different positions at our school and not being selected for either. During our conversation, I reminded her that the decisions reflected specific skill set needs rather than a lack of confidence in her abilities. I encouraged her not to lose faith in herself. Several months later, she applied for a third opportunity with my encouragement and will soon be stepping into that role. There is joy in helping people recognize strengths they may temporarily struggle to see in themselves.
For school leaders, embracing struggle may mean having the attendance conversation that a student needs to hear, encouraging a teacher who is questioning their worth, or spending extra time listening to a student who feels unseen. These moments rarely appear on a strategic plan or school improvement document, yet they often produce some of the most meaningful outcomes. We must find ways to be disciplined in our optimism and find joy in the work.
Principals, we need to act on what we say we believe. Let’s build schools filled with adults so extraordinary that every student has a trusted adult and an experience they deserve. Culture is built through people—through who we hire, encourage, and help see possibility in themselves.
We may not have to look far. These future educators may already be sitting in front of us, in the students asking hard questions, the students navigating adversity, and the students turning pain into purpose. The next trusted adult may already be in your office, waiting for someone to identify the gifts they do not yet fully see in themselves.
So the next time you sit across from a student who is struggling or a teacher having a crisis of confidence, remember: You may be planting seeds for the next wave of exceptional educators. You may be helping shape the teacher who will one day return to protect and inspire the lives of students still to come. What a beautiful story it would be if the students we serve today become the adults who help rebuild the foundation of our schools tomorrow. That is work worth believing in. That is optimism worth practicing. That is joy worth seeking.
