As political winds shift and educational currents grow increasingly unpredictable, schools across the country are being asked to navigate choppy seas—evolving workforce initiatives, likely changes to federal funding, and a growing push for parent choice.
In times like these, size isn’t always an advantage.
When I became superintendent of the Eastern Hancock schools, a district of 1,200 students in rural Indiana, my predecessor offered a metaphor that still shapes how I lead: “Some schools are cruise ships,” he said. “They have much to offer, but we get to be a kayak—we’re nimble, responsive, and can adjust course in ways cruise ships can’t.”
That idea is what originally sparked this piece. I started writing about the ways small districts can act more quickly and serve students more personally than their larger counterparts. In schools like ours, we don’t need formal meetings to do what’s right for kids. We know them, trust each other, and take action.
But as the political landscape reflected rising tensions and growing uncertainty, I noticed something else: While panic was spreading in some places, I didn’t feel it. What began as a reflection on size became something deeper. The more I listened to the national conversation, the more I realized this wasn’t just about big versus small—it was about trust, responsiveness, and the ability to stay steady in turbulent times.
Maybe that’s just my nature—or maybe it’s because I lead in a place where politics feels more distant. But I think it’s more than that. I trust our team, our community, and the relationships we’ve built. I’m confident that whatever comes our way—new requirements, funding shifts, or political pressure—we’ll be able to adjust. So I don’t worry.
And I think, now more than ever, school administrators could use a little less worry.
The kayak metaphor has held up. As schools are asked more and more to prove their relevance—not just to policymakers but also to families—the ones that thrive will be those that can paddle quickly, turn sharply, and keep students above water.
I want to offer a different perspective: calm, clarity, and confidence.
To remain the top choice for families, for instance, public schools must adapt. Agility is no longer optional—it’s the key to survival. Larger systems may have more resources, but small districts like ours have fewer layers of bureaucracy. Responsiveness is built into our design. We can test ideas, make adjustments, and move forward quickly—without waiting for top-down approval.
And when conditions shift—as they often do—that flexibility becomes our greatest asset.
When Indiana revised its graduation requirements to focus more on preparing students for life after high school—through college, trade school, or a career—some districts had to scramble. At Eastern Hancock, we pivoted almost immediately.
Our students were already earning credentials, gaining hands-on experience, and exploring career paths that matched their interests—all while staying on track for graduation. Because we had strong programs and close relationships with students and local employers, we could build on what was working and align it with the new requirements. We made sure the credentials students earned weren’t just boxes checked but meaningful steps toward real opportunities. When state leaders call for deeper school-business partnerships, small schools are often already there. We don’t need to launch engagement strategies—we live them.
That kind of responsiveness makes a difference: Delays can mean missed chances for kids. Larger districts might need years to roll out new initiatives. In small districts, we can gather the right people, make decisions, and adjust as we go.
At Eastern Hancock, we partner with local builders, hospitals, and manufacturers. Employers visit classrooms. Students gain skills, earn credit, and make connections. Families see this. And in a time when parents are choosing schools based on what they offer, those visible, meaningful experiences matter. But this isn’t just about us. Other small districts are making similar moves. Eminence Independent in Kentucky, Northern Cass in North Dakota, and Randolph Eastern here in Indiana are all reimagining what school can be and building models others can learn from.
And while we often talk about smallness in terms of enrollment, I’d argue that “small” is also a mindset. Even in larger districts, it’s possible to create smaller learning communities—where relationships drive decisions, teams act quickly, and programs are built around real student needs. The question isn’t how many students a district serves—but whether it’s structured to stay close to them.
As public education continues to evolve, agility, connection, and clarity of purpose will count more than ever. In this political moment—shaped by workforce demands, increased parental choice, tightening federal budgets, and growing pressure around curriculum mandates—small schools can model what’s possible when systems are built for responsiveness. Whether it’s navigating new expectations around what we teach, how we fund it, or who gets to decide, the ability to act quickly and stay grounded in local relationships is more important than ever.
Eastern Hancock isn’t perfect. But we’ve used our size to build programs that meet the moment—and we’re not afraid of what’s next. That’s really why I wrote this. Because in a time when education can feel heavy with uncertainty, I want to offer a different perspective: calm, clarity, and confidence.
We can’t control the current—but we can choose how we navigate it. Whether you’re steering a kayak or a cruise ship, what matters most is staying close to your community, moving with purpose, and adjusting when the waters change.
