“I was a good teacher, but that doesn’t mean I know how to be a good leader.” Those were the words of the young school leader, as she dropped her head to hide tear-filled, red eyes. Having spent the day observing her skillfully guide her teachers toward meaningful collaboration, I was taken aback by the stark contrast in this vulnerable moment. Her profound success as an educator had propelled her rapidly into a leadership position. Yet, in private, away from the supportive community she was building among her teachers, her vulnerability mirrored my own.
I wish I could say her story was unique, but it wasn’t. On my flight home from a day of coaching at her school, I reflected deeply on how familiar her experience felt. Like her, I had poured immense effort into developing collaborative teams when I was a school leader. Also like her, beneath my outward confidence lay a quiet fear of failure and a persistent battle with imposter syndrome.
Unlike this brave leader, I was unwilling to reveal my vulnerability until my body forced me. It was only after a three-week medical crisis that I finally understood the importance of seeking help. It was then that I recognized a grim truth: In a profession that celebrates collaboration and teamwork, education leaders often suffer silently in isolation.
This reality was further confirmed when I surveyed more than 500 school leaders across Arkansas as part of my doctoral program in 2019. Themes of isolation, imposter syndrome, and imbalance surfaced repeatedly, accompanied by alarming physical symptoms.
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.
The data painted a dire picture of school leaders’ mental and physical health: 40 percent reported sleep deprivation, and 86 percent said they lacked adequate exercise. One in 8 of the respondents regularly skipped lunch, didn’t drink enough water, and spent fewer than three hours a day with loved ones. Additionally, they worked significantly longer hours than the average American. These findings solidified my commitment to addressing isolation and imbalance among education leaders.
Often, a core problem for new school leaders is our misunderstanding of what constitutes success in leadership. Many of us transition from successful teaching careers into leadership roles, only to discover quickly how much higher the stakes are. Suddenly, instead of guiding a class of 25 students, we carry the weight of entire schools. With each decision we make, we feel the scrutiny of every student, parent, educator, and community member.
Under this immense pressure, we become hyperaware of our limitations. Often, we attempt to overcome our imposter syndromes through unsustainable workloads and unrealistic expectations for ourselves.
One common response is to isolate—often unconsciously. We fall into the trap of becoming “educational firefighters,” perpetually available and committed to solving every problem and doing so alone.
This approach works—but only temporarily. Leaders who adopt this mentality are admired for their dedication and tirelessness. Privately, however, this pattern pushes us toward burnout.
I studied this phenomenon closely in my doctoral studies, when I spent three years working with 20 remarkable leaders caught in this very trap. Tragically, just six years later, not one remains in leadership; more heartbreaking still, five have passed away.
This harsh reality compels an essential question: How can we protect education leaders from the pressures and expectations they impose upon themselves?
First, we must reject the destructive myth that relentless hours, skipped lunches, perpetual availability, and total work-life imbalance are necessary or even honorable. This misconception not only damages current leaders but also hinders the recruitment and retention of future education talent.
Moreover, leaders are intended for far more than merely extinguishing the endless fires that arise in schools daily. Each education leader was selected because they bring distinct strengths to their role—unique qualities that can powerfully serve their communities. Recognizing and intentionally operating within these strengths is critical. No single leader possesses every skill necessary for effective school leadership. Accepting this limitation enables us to strategically manage our time and energy.
Yet, acknowledging our limitations should not lead to isolation; rather, it should propel us toward the empowering and essential practice of shared leadership. Believing any single individual can master every aspect of leadership is unrealistic and harmful. Rather than exhausting ourselves trying to fill every gap, we should actively identify and nurture colleagues whose strengths complement our weaknesses.
Shared leadership is neither weakness nor inadequacy—it is a demonstration of strength, trust, and wisdom. It allows us to amplify our collective abilities, fostering sustainable, resilient leadership that benefits everyone.
Education leadership is at a critical juncture. The challenges are significant but so, too, is our capacity for meaningful change. If we want to preserve and sustain the incredible leaders within our schools, we must commit to redefining success, prioritizing balance, intentionally utilizing our strengths, and embracing the transformative power of shared leadership.
I invite you to actively engage in this mission. Reach out, support your colleagues, and cultivate communities where collaboration and openness are encouraged. Together, we can ensure that our schools—and the dedicated leaders within them—not only survive but thrive.
