Finding Hope, Gratitude, and Legacy After Loss

When I chose my three words for 2026, Steady, Rooted, & Legacy, I knew I was navigating a new season. At the time, I could already feel the weight I was carrying. My mom had passed away in September 2025, and with her passing came a season of grief that reshaped my sense of normal. It invited me to consider what it meant to stay steady and rooted when life was changing in ways I didn’t expect.

I thought that was the storm. I didn't know it was just the beginning of a longer winter.

In March 2026, six months to the day after my mom passed, we called in hospice for my dad, and the next day he went to be with her.

To lose both parents in a span of six months is a disorienting, breathtaking kind of grief. It's hard to describe unless you’ve lived it. There are still waves of sadness. That part is real and honest and ongoing. But sitting here now, watching summer rain move across everything outside my window, water settling into the ground, plants still doing what plants do, I also feel something I didn’t expect to feel so soon. I feel a profound, quiet sense of gratitude and peace.

For the last six months of my father’s life, I had the incredible privilege of being his caretaker, and for that I am deeply grateful. Peace comes from knowing that he is where he wants to be, and that is back with his bride of 59 years, and they are both whole and healthy. 

There's an emotional toll and heavy reality of watching someone you love fade. But there is also something deeply holy in it. It allowed me to slow down and match his pace. It gave us hours of quiet conversations, shared memories, and a beautiful, unhurried closure that is rare in this fast-paced world. In taking care of him, I wasn't just giving; I was receiving.  I was learning, in the most stripped-down way, what actually matters when everything nonessential falls away.

It turns out that my words for the year weren't just a compass for the future, they were a preparation for my current reality. 

Steady: Showing up day after day for my dad taught me the true meaning of consistency over intensity. It wasn’t about productivity or momentum, but it was about presence and quiet faithfulness. It was a steady calm, even when my heart was aching.

Rooted: Losing both parents stretches your roots to their absolute limit. But I have found that the foundation they built in me with faith, love, resilience, and values is unshakable. I am bending, but I am not breaking.

Legacy: As I look at the space they left behind, I am reminded that legacy isn't about titles or achievements. It’s etched into the hearts of the people we leave behind. I see their legacy in my daughters, me and my two sisters, and in my two grandsons, one of whom was born last week.  Life keeps moving, carrying pieces of them forward in ways that feel both ordinary and sacred.

"Grief is just love with no place to go."

-Jamie Anderson

Grief is not a problem to be solved; it is a love that has nowhere to go. But there is hope here, too. There is immense beauty in the bittersweet, and there is deep gratitude for the time and the honor of walking both of my parents all the way home.

There is a steadiness I’m learning to live with now, one that holds both loss and love at the same time, without needing to rush either. Thank you for walking alongside me in this space and for allowing me to share the beautiful, bittersweet reality of the journey.

The 80–20 Rule for Leaders Who Want to Build Culture, Not Just Stay Busy

I first wrote a version of this post in 2019. Since then, my leadership roles have shifted, seasons have changed, and life has stretched me in new ways. But the heart of this message - the need to focus on what truly matters - has remained constant. I’m revisiting it now because the lesson still feels just as relevant.

Over the years, one theme has shown up again and again in conversations with readers, school leaders, and the educators and leaders I mentor through my work and partnerships:

I want to be more effective without being exhausted.

That desire has only intensified in the last few years.

The past four years of my own leadership journey - retiring and coaching schools through the Hope Institute, to stepping back into the principalship, navigating heavy family transitions, and now returning to leadership coaching with the Hope Institute - have fundamentally reshaped how I view productivity. I’m far less interested in doing more and far more focused on doing what actually moves our heart-work forward.

That’s where the Pareto Principle comes back into the conversation.

A Rule Worth Revisiting

That is exactly why I keep returning to the Pareto Principle, a concept many of us know simply as the 80-20 Rule. Originally noted by economist Vilfredo Pareto over a century ago when he realized 20% of his pea plants produced 80% of the harvest, this pattern shows up everywhere. Simply stated: 80% of results come from 20% of actions.

In graduate school, I first heard it framed through an educational lens: twenty percent of teachers account for eighty percent of discipline referrals. In leadership circles, we often hear that eighty percent of the work is carried by twenty percent of the team. Even in our quiet personal routines, it reveals itself: we wear the same few outfits, engage with the same handful of emails, and return to the same core habits.

The rule itself isn’t judgmental. It’s revealing.

Productivity Isn’t Neutral; It Shapes Culture

Over the years, the biggest shift I’ve made is realizing that productivity isn’t just about efficiency, it’s actually about our values. What we consistently give our time and attention to sends a powerful message to those around us. It shapes our school culture, signals our true priorities, and models what matters most. When I was leading a school day in and day out, it became clear very quickly that not every task deserved the same level of urgency or energy, and the exact same remains true today. So instead of constantly asking ourselves how we can get more done, the better question to hold close is: What deserves my best energy?

Applying the 80-20 Rule with Intention

Here are a few ways to use the Pareto Principle thoughtfully, without adding more to your plate.

1. Look at where your energy actually comes from. 

About 20% of your activities likely produce 80% of your sense of purpose and fulfillment. What drains you that could be reduced or released?

2. Reduce decision fatigue where you can. 

Whether it’s clothing, routines, or meetings... simplifying choices frees up mental energy for leadership decisions that matter.

3. Be ruthless with your inbox. 

You probably engage meaningfully with a small percentage of emails or newsletters. Unsubscribe from the rest. Curate what informs you.

4. Identify the work that truly moves the mission forward. 

Only a fraction of your daily tasks produce the results you actually want. Those are the ones tied to culture, people, and clarity - not just completion.

5. Stop confusing motion with progress. 

Busywork feels productive, but it rarely builds strong culture. Leaders don’t need to do everything; they need to do the right things.

A Simple Practice I’ve Kept

A beautiful, simple discipline I’ve tried to practice comes from Lynn Perkins, the CEO of UrbanSitter. Each morning, she writes down just three things that, if completed, would make the day feel successful. Not a full page, and not a list of ten, just three. It forces a gentle prioritization, reminding us that if everything feels incredibly important, then nothing truly is.

Leadership, Character, and the Long View

Sustainable leadership ultimately requires boundaries, absolute clarity, and alignment. The 80-20 Rule isn't about squeezing more out of yourself; it’s about honoring your values, your people, and your purpose.

As Tim Ferriss reminds us,

“If you want to have more, do more, and be more, it all begins with the voice that no one else hears.”

What that voice prioritizes will eventually shape your leadership and your culture.

As you move through your week, I'd love for you to sit with one honest question: What is the small percentage of your work that truly makes the biggest difference?

ICYMI: Previous Posts on Productivity & Leadership

• Increase your Productivity by Using Pockets of Time
• One Simple Habit to Improve Mood and Productivity
• What Successful People Do Daily to Increase Efficiency & Productivity

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What It Looks Like When Your Words Show Up in Real Life (A Reflection on Being Rooted)

There’s something quietly affirming when life starts echoing back what you’ve already named as true.

Since choosing my three words for 2026 - steady, rooted, and legacy - I’ve noticed how often they’ve surfaced. They've shown up gently, not loudly or dramatically, but almost insistently, as if they are tapping me on the shoulder to get my full attention. They've shown up in conversations. In reading. In moments of stillness I didn’t plan for. Each time, they’ve felt less like coincidences and more like gentle reminders that clarity often comes after we name what we need most.

I’ve learned over the years through my leadership journey that this is often how clarity shows up. Not all at once, and not with fireworks, but through repetition, alignment, and a growing sense of peace.

Most recently, I came across a post on Instagram by illustrator Bee Davies (@beedaviesillustration). It stopped me, not because it was flashy, but because it named something I’ve been feeling but hadn’t fully articulated yet. I found myself nodding along as I read her words. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Bee Davies Illustration (@beedaviesillustration)

In her caption, Bee so eloquently wrote:

“But in nature, January is quiet on purpose. Life slows down. What we don’t see is the strength building underground - roots settling, foundations forming, preparing for spring. Without roots, there is no growth.”

That line, quiet on purpose, stayed with me.

So often, we treat January as a launching pad. A month meant for acceleration, urgency, and visible progress. We feel pressure to declare goals, prove momentum, and show evidence that we are moving forward. But nature tells a different story. One that values preparation over performance and depth over speed.

This is where rooted keeps showing up for me.

After a year marked by significant transition and loss, I’m learning that not every season is meant for outward growth. Some seasons are meant for anchoring. For settling into what remains true when roles change and circumstances shift. For allowing foundations to strengthen quietly, without an audience.

Being rooted doesn’t mean standing still. It means knowing what holds you steady when everything else feels uncertain.

That grounding makes steady possible.

Steady has become a reminder that meaningful progress doesn’t require urgency. It requires faithfulness. Showing up again today. Making small, consistent choices. Trusting that the work happening beneath the surface matters, even when there’s nothing visible to point to yet.

And when I hold steady and stay rooted, I’m reminded of the third word that continues to surface: legacy.

Legacy has reframed how I think about growth. It’s helped me zoom out and see that what I’m building now isn’t always meant to be immediately seen or measured. Some of the most important work we do shapes people, perspectives, and futures we may never fully witness.

Roots don’t announce themselves. But they determine everything that grows.

As I move into 2026, I’m less interested in rushing toward what’s next and more committed to honoring what’s forming. To trusting the quiet work. To believing that alignment doesn’t always feel exciting, but it does feel right.

And maybe that’s the invitation for all of us this January... to slow down on purpose, to let our roots settle, and to trust that growth will come... in time.

My Three Words for 2026: A New Season, a Clear Compass

For more than a decade now, choosing three words (or one word) for the year has been one of the most grounding practices in my life.

I don’t choose my words quickly. I don’t choose them because they sound good or because they feel aspirational in a surface-level way. I choose them through a process of reflection, prayer, listening, and honesty about what the past year revealed and what the next season is asking of me.

In the past, I thought my words needed to hype me up for the new year. What I’ve learned over time is that the right words don’t energize me as much as they center me. They bring clarity instead of urgency and direction instead of pressure.

The Process I Use

Before I ever write a word down, I ask myself a few quiet questions:

• What did this past year teach me about myself, my limits, and my values?
• Where did I feel stretched, and where did I feel most like myself?
• What do I need more of - not to achieve more, but to live well?
• What kind of person do I want to be this time next year?

I sit with those questions for days... sometimes weeks. I pay attention to patterns. I notice what keeps resurfacing in conversations and in prayer. Eventually, certain words don’t just appear; they stay.

As I looked ahead to 2026, three words remained long after the others faded:

Steady. Rooted. Legacy.

Each one carries a particular invitation. Today, I want to share what they mean to me and how they might serve as guiding words for you too.

STEADY: Peace in Motion

“Steady” has a calm strength to it, like a deep breath before a big moment. I think about this word in terms of consistency over intensity.

“Success is the result of perfection, hard work, learning from failure, loyalty, and persistence.”

- Colin Powell

This year has reminded me that healing (heart, body, spirit) doesn’t happen in bursts. Steady reminds me to show up - day in and day out - for the things that matter: my family, my health, my work, and my faith. It whispers, keep going, one step at a time. It’s a gentle but firm guide that says consistency wins the long game.

When I think about the work I care about - the people I get to serve through The Compelled Educator, the Communities of Character podcast, the Hope Institute, and the connections we share - being steady feels like a gift I can give others as well as myself.

ROOTED: Deep in What Matters Most

“Storms make trees take deeper roots.”

- Dolly Parton

There is a kind of grief we don’t always name - the grief that comes with leaving something you loved deeply, even when the decision was right.

In 2025, I experienced two significant losses. One was deeply personal. The other was professional, but no less meaningful. Stepping away from my role as principal was not just a career change; it was the surrender of a calling that had shaped me, stretched me, and allowed me to serve in ways that mattered deeply to me. It was a place where I felt useful, connected, and fully alive.

What made that loss complicated was this: I didn’t leave because I stopped loving the work. I left because love required something else of me.

Grief has a way of unsettling our sense of identity. When titles fall away and routines disappear, we’re forced to ask harder questions: Who am I without this role? Where do I belong now? What remains when what I loved is gone?

That’s where rooted began to matter more than ever.

Rooted reminds me that while roles can change, identity does not. That purpose is not limited to a position, and calling is not confined to a title. Being rooted means anchoring myself in values, faith, and relationships that remain steady even when circumstances shift. 

Rooted doesn’t promise comfort, but it offers stability. And in a season marked by loss, stability is a gift.

This word reminds me to draw strength from my foundations - family, friends, faith, curiosity, and purpose. It’s a reminder that when storms come (and they always do!), roots help us bend without breaking.

LEGACY: What Lasts Longer Than Me

Legacy isn’t just for big achievements or titles. It’s about the footprints we leave on our journey. From the way we influence a child, to how we show up for a friend, build something meaningful, or how we care for the people we love.

This word keeps me focused on what lasts longer than a single year or season. It strengthens me as I walk through the current season filled with doubt and grief, yet also hope. It shapes how I think about family, relationships, health, work, and character. I think about how the character we model today becomes the foundation for tomorrow. And I especially think about my daughters, my grandson, and the grandson that will be born in 2026. 

To me, legacy isn’t pressure, it’s perspective. It’s choosing what matters long after the day is done.

Legacy asks:

• What am I modeling for the people I love?
• What habits am I forming today that shape tomorrow?
• What will remain because I was here?

“Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.”

- Shannon L. Alder

So… If I had to choose one word, which one would it be? 

In years past I’ve used three words, and sometimes just one feels right, too. This year, these three words represent different aspects of the journey I’m on. Steady for consistency and resilience, Rooted for depth and alignment, and Legacy for meaning and long-term impact.

If I had to choose just one, it might be the one that brings them together in a single heartbeat: Rooted. Because when we’re rooted, we tend to stay steady and build legacy without losing ourselves in the noise.

As always, I’d love to hear your word for the year. What’s drawing you? What feels like a compass in the next season of your story?

Here’s to a year defined not just by what we do, but who we become.

Past #My3Words Choices

2014 - Discipline. Intentional. Balance.
2015 - Rhythm. Bravery. Fitness.
2016 - Focus. Purpose. Do.
2017 - Pivot. Go. Grow.
2018 - Lift. Create. Relentless. 
2019 - Practice. Execute. Be.

2020 - Consistent. Empower. Budget.

2021 - Invest. Stretch. Discipline.

2022 - Conquer. (Click to read why I chose only 1 word)

2023 - Heal. Leap. Sow.

2024 - Ignite. Impact. Instigate.

2025 - Elevate. Thrive. Nurture.

Ten Practical Ways to Build Character this Week at School

Simple, meaningful ideas to carry you into the holidays - or to kick off strong in January.

As we approach the last stretch before the holiday break, the energy in schools starts to shift. Students feel it. Teachers feel it. The hallways buzz a little louder, the days feel a little fuller, and routines (and patience!) sometimes stretch thin.

It’s a unique window of time that can feel both challenging and full of opportunity.

This time of year is actually perfect for weaving in small, meaningful practices that strengthen character in your classroom or school community. And if December feels too packed or too fast? January offers a fresh, natural reset.

Either way, character isn’t built in grand gestures. It grows in consistent, intentional, and simple moments, which are the the kinds of moments that students remember long after the semester ends.

Here are 10 practical ways to build character at school, each one quick to implement and impactful over time.

1. Greet every student by name each morning.

Hearing their name - spoken kindly and intentionally - grounds students in belonging. Whether it’s at the door, in the hallway, or before the bell rings, it sets the tone: You matter here.

2. Highlight a “Character Trait of the Week” in announcements.

A short spotlight on traits like empathy, perseverance, or respect can spark conversations schoolwide. Keep it simple, keep it consistent, and invite students to notice the trait in action each day.

3. Incorporate a short reflection question into class openers.

A one-minute prompt of “What’s one thing you can do today to be a good teammate?” helps students build self-awareness and intention. Reflection is one of the most powerful tools in character education.

4. Model respectful language during challenging conversations.

Students learn the most from what they see. Using calm, respectful language, especially in tough moments, teaches emotional regulation and dignity far better than any worksheet ever could.

5. Recognize students showing positive character with quick notes or shout-outs.

Character grows when it’s seen and named. A sticky note, a brief comment, or a quick announcement... it doesn’t have to be fancy to be meaningful.

6. Start each class with a 60-second gratitude or kindness prompt.

A simple, guided moment such as, “Think of one person you’re grateful for today,” helps students build empathy and emotional awareness. It also centers everyone for learning.

7. Create opportunities for students to lead small tasks or routines.

Student leadership doesn’t have to be formal. Handing out materials, leading warm-ups, taking care of the board... these small responsibilities build confidence and agency.

8. Use a rotating classroom responsibility chart to build ownership.

Ownership fosters character. A rotating chart spreads opportunities for responsibility and gives every student a chance to contribute to the classroom community.

9. Incorporate a daily kindness challenge students can complete in under 2 minutes.

Tiny acts create big shifts. Examples:

“Hold the door for someone.”

“Invite someone new to join your group.”

“Say thank you more times than you think you need to.”

Two minutes. Big impact.

10. End the week with a ‘Character Win’ share-out in each class.

Give students a chance to celebrate moments of integrity, kindness, or perseverance, by either something they did or something they saw. These reflections become a powerful culture-builder over time.

A Small Start Can Last All Year
Whether you try one idea before the holiday break or save a few for January’s restart, remember this:

Building character doesn’t require perfection; it requires consistency.  Small practices, repeated over time, shape the culture of a classroom and the heart of a school.

 If you try any of these, I’d love to hear how they go.

And if you have ideas to add, share them! Our strength as educators grows when we learn from each other.

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Why “Compelled”? The Story Behind the Word That Guides My Work

Words matter.

They shape our beliefs, guide our choices, and clarify who we want to become.

For years, people have asked me why my blog is called The Compelled Educator, and why compelled became the word I chose to build my work, my writing, and my leadership around. It’s a strong word. A directional word. A word that points you toward action.

And the story behind it goes all the way back to the softball field.

Where It Started: A Coaching Lesson I Never Forgot

Before I was a principal, a speaker, or a character coach, I was a high school teacher and softball coach. I loved the years of coaching. The strategy, the competition, the laughter, the team bonding, and the chance to help young women grow not just as athletes, but as people.

At a coaching clinic I attended early in my career, I got to hear Jeff Janssen speak about his framework called the Commitment Continuum. Jeff Janssen is the author of several books, including Championship Team Building, Seven Secrets of Successful Coaches, and the Team Captain's Leadership Manual. While Championship Team Building and Seven Secrets of Successful Coaches were written over 20 years ago, their message is timeless and still applicable today!

This post includes affiliate links. Thanks for supporting this blog and the work I share at The Compelled Educator.

In The Team Captain’s Leadership Manual, he describes the framework as a tool to help captains, coaches, and leaders recognize the range of mindsets and levels of commitment present on any team, because you can’t lead people well if you don’t first understand where they are.

Janssen explained that on every team, in every organization, and honestly in every school, people fall at different places along the continuum. Some are resistant. Some are reluctant. Others are simply existing, going through the motions. Some are compliant because they know what’s expected, and others are genuinely committed to the work.

But then there’s another level entirely: compelled.

As a coach, I knew exactly who those athletes were. They were the ones who didn’t need constant reminders or external motivation. They practiced hard when no one was watching. They encouraged teammates naturally. They brought energy into the dugout instead of waiting for someone else to create it. Their effort wasn’t driven by pressure, rules, or fear of consequences. It came from somewhere deeper inside them.

And I remember thinking at the time, That’s different. That’s the kind of mindset that changes teams.

The Word That Stuck With Me

Over the years, I started seeing that same quality everywhere. I saw it in teachers who showed up every day with passion and purpose, even when the work was hard. I saw it in school leaders who poured themselves into building positive cultures because they genuinely believed students deserved it. I saw it in colleagues, mentors, and eventually in the schools and leadership teams I’ve had the privilege to support through the Hope Institute. The people who made the greatest impact were rarely the loudest or most recognized. They were simply people who felt deeply connected to the work they had been called to do.

That idea stayed with me for a long time, and when I eventually started writing publicly, I realized that the word compelled perfectly captured the kind of educator and leader I hoped to become.

What It Means to Be Compelled

To me, being compelled has never meant being perfect or having unlimited energy. It doesn’t mean always getting it right. It means being guided by purpose and conviction. It means caring enough to step forward, even when it’s difficult. It means leading from the inside out, not because someone told you to, but because something in your heart tells you the work matters.

That belief has shaped my leadership, my writing, and the way I approach education. It’s why relationships matter so much to me. It’s why culture matters. It’s why character matters. Because the educators and leaders who change lives are rarely the ones operating out of obligation alone. They are the ones who are compelled to serve, to grow, to encourage, and to make things better for the people around them.

And that’s the heartbeat behind everything I share here at The Compelled Educator.

Still Compelled After All These Years

It’s been many years since I stood on a softball field carrying a bucket of balls and a practice plan, but the lessons I learned during those seasons of coaching have never really left me. In many ways, they continue to shape how I lead, how I encourage others, and how I approach this work every single day.

That idea of being compelled, of being driven by something deeper than obligation or recognition, still guides me. It shows up in every blog post I write, every workshop I lead, every podcast conversation I’m privileged to have, and every coaching session where I get to walk alongside educators and leaders who are doing meaningful work in challenging times. It even shows up in the quiet moments of transition and uncertainty, when purpose matters more than position.

The longer I spend in education and leadership spaces, the more convinced I become that our schools and communities desperately need compelled leaders. We need people who are grounded in purpose, who lead with integrity and compassion, and who are willing to keep showing up for others even when the work feels difficult. We need leaders who don’t simply react to the moment, but who rise to meet it with courage, empathy, and hope.

That belief is at the center of why I continue to write and share here. It’s why I coach. It’s why I speak. It’s why I remain so passionate about leadership, culture, and character.

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Hope, Healing, and a New Chapter in the Work I Love

A New Season and A Renewed Mission

One thing life continues to teach me is that our stories rarely unfold the way we script them. Instead, they move in seasons. Some are joy-filled, some are challenging, and some quietly reshape us from the inside out.

As many of you know, I first retired from Hoover High School in 2021. When I re-joined Hoover High as Principal in 2023, I never expected to retire again two years later, on July 1, 2025. I fully expected to stay much longer. I loved the work, the people, the students, the culture. My two years there were rich with connection and purpose, and I still carry those relationships with deep gratitude.

But when my parents’ needs increased, I knew my plans had to shift. Stepping away from Hoover was not easy, but it was the right decision. It was a values-aligned decision. And because of that choice, I received one of the greatest gifts of my life: the chance to be with my mom during her final months.

ICYMI: Lessons from My First Teacher - My Mom

Those days were filled with laughter, stories and quiet moments, with a kind of presence that only becomes possible when everything else is put aside. I will forever be grateful for that time. And now, I’m thankful for these days with my dad as he navigates his own health journey.

This season has brought my core leadership beliefs into even sharper focus. Not long ago, I spoke with a group of master’s students at Samford University about the Nine Essentials for Creating an Exceptional Culture, and I shared a truth that has guided me for years:

When your values are clear, your decisions become easier, even when they are hard.

Settling Back Into Work I Love

When I retired, it was also shared publicly that I would be returning to the Hope Institute as a Senior Character Coach. Now that some time has passed, it feels right to share a bit more about what this season has felt like and the work I’m grateful to do again.

Returning to Hope Institute isn’t a new beginning so much as a continuation. It's a return to meaningful, mission-driven work that has always felt like home. Supporting school leaders and helping schools strengthen their culture through character development is work that stirs me. It challenges me. It fulfills me.

And in this season of personal transition, it has been an anchor.

Communities of Character: Season 4

Another bright spot has been restarting the Communities of Character podcast. After taking a pause during a year of doctoral work, principalship, family, and transition, pressing “record” again felt both vulnerable and energizing.

And y'all, the guests this season have been incredible.

They’ve shared stories of courage, resilience, service, and leadership that have strengthened my own heart. Their insights remind me why this work matters, why character matters, and why community is so essential in every space we lead.

I can’t wait for you to hear each conversation.

Lessons I’m Carrying Into This Season

As the holiday season approaches, I'm reminded that it is a time of gratitude, reflection, and slowing down. I’ve found myself holding onto a few lessons this chapter has reinforced:

Gratitude changes everything.

Even in grief. Even in transition. Even in the unknown. There are blessings tucked into every corner when we pause to look for them.

Patience is a form of strength.

It asks us to breathe, to trust, and to release our timeline in exchange for a bigger one we can’t yet see.

Faith steadies us.

It reminds us that we never walk alone, even in seasons that stretch us.

Your core values will always tell the truth.

When life becomes noisy, values become a compass: quiet, steady, and clear.

Moving Forward With Hope

I miss Hoover greatly. I miss the kids, the staff, the rhythms of school life, and the joy of leading alongside incredible educators. But I also know this is exactly where I’m meant to be right now.

This is a season of caring, of guiding, of rebuilding, of listening, of serving. And I’m grateful. I'm deeply grateful for how the story is unfolding.

Thank you for continuing to walk alongside me. Thank you for reading, listening, and encouraging. And thank you for believing, as I do, that character and compassion can change not just schools, but lives.

Here’s to this season, and the next one, too.

Lessons From My First Teacher - My Mom

When I think about my mom, I don’t first think of the milestones or the holidays, though there were many special ones. I think of the mornings.

I think of the sound of her moving through the house before anyone else was awake... quiet but steady, like the rhythm that kept our family’s time. As a kid, during the school year, she would have breakfast ready for my sister and me, and we had to sit at the table together each morning and eat breakfast before school. During the summers, I would wake up to her being gone, and I knew that she was out picking blackberries or already working in the yard. 

My mom believed in the power of routine long before “morning habits” became a buzzword. She called herself a “domestic engineer,” and she approached every day with purpose.

Each morning, she made her bed, a small act of order that seemed to set the tone for her whole day. She always got dressed for the day - sometimes in sweats and tennis shoes, but always ready. And she made sure I was ready, too.

Every night before bed, she’d remind me to pick out my clothes for the next day. Then, in the mornings, I’d hear her voice from down the hall: “Jennifer! Make your bed!”

At the time, I didn’t realize she was teaching me something bigger than how to keep a tidy room. She was showing me how preparation and consistency could shape a life. Those simple habits became the foundation for who I am today: someone who values doing things well and making the most of each day.

Mom also nurtured my love for learning. When I was in late elementary and junior high school, she would take my sister and me to the library so we could check out books. I can still remember the tall bookshelves and the quiet calm where I was allowed to choose any book. I read all sorts of topics and tales, each one creating curiosity and a thrill for learning.

Looking back, I see now that she was planting the seeds for a lifelong love of reading. It has been something that has brought me so much joy, learning, and connection throughout my life.

One of her lessons that I’ve carried with me the longest came during my first retail job in college. She told me,

“The person in front of you is always more important than the person at the end of the phone line.”

That one sentence has stuck with me all these years, and I’ve shared it with my daughters, too.

Even though my mom couldn’t have imagined the world we live in now, with smartphones, texts, and social media, I think her wisdom is more important than ever. It’s so easy to be distracted, but she reminded me to be present… to look people in the eye… to give my full attention to whoever is standing right in front of me.

Integrity was also one of my mom’s core values. She didn’t just talk about it; she lived it. She expected honesty and hard work. We weren’t allowed to quit something we had started, and that taught us perseverance and grit.

And she was a protector. Fierce. Loyal. If someone messed with her family, she stood her ground. She could be tough on us, but she was even tougher on anyone who threatened the people she loved.

Now that she’s gone, I see her lessons everywhere. In my morning routines. In my love of books. In the way I show up for people. In the values I’ve tried to pass down to my own daughters.

My mom taught me that a good life isn’t made up of big moments. It’s built in the small, consistent acts that add up over time.

It’s in how we start our day. 

In the truth we tell.

In the presence we give to the person right in front of us.

Her lessons, and her joy, are still shaping me.

I love you, Mom. 

Cultivating Cultures of Character: What I Saw at Two Alabama Schools

This week, I had the privilege of joining KPCEL (Kern Partners for Character and Educational Leadership) on Character Walks at two remarkable schools - Edgewood Elementary in Homewood, AL, and Pizitz Middle School in Vestavia Hills, AL.

For those unfamiliar, Character Walks are intentional school visits where educators and leaders tour campuses to observe how character is embedded into the daily culture of a school. These walks are about more than what you see, they’re about what you feel. The goal is to notice how values are lived out in classrooms, hallways, and everyday interactions.

Members of the KPCEL Character Walk at Edgewood Elementary (Photo Credit: Homewood City Schools)

Pizitz Middle School has earned recognition as a National School of Character by Character.org, while Edgewood Elementary has been named a Promising Practice school for its innovative approaches to character development. Both schools left me deeply inspired.

Walking through the halls, I was struck not just by the positive energy but by the intentionality behind everything I saw and heard. Their core values weren’t just written on a wall or tucked away in a handbook. They were alive - woven into conversations, classroom routines, and even how students treated one another in the cafeteria and on the playground.

Visiting Edgewood Elementary (Photo Credit: Homewood City Schools)

It reminded me that culture doesn’t happen by accident. A culture of character is cultivated when leaders, teachers, and students alike commit to living out values every day, in and out of the classroom.

Members of Hope Institute at Pizitz Middle School

At Edgewood Elementary, I saw teachers seamlessly connect lessons back to the school’s values, helping students not just learn content but also grow as people. At Pizitz Middle School, students spoke with pride about their shared responsibility in upholding the community’s standards of their core values as well as their creed of character, excellence, and family.

(I was familiar with the principal at Pizitz Middle School, Alicia Hunsberger, as I had interviewed her on the Communities of Character podcast. You can listen to the interview HERE.)

As I experienced these Character Walks, I thought back to my last two years as principal at Hoover High School. During that time, our school community - students, staff, and families - identified our core values and began the important work of weaving them into all aspects of school life. Seeing students at Edgewood and Pizitz living out their schools’ values reminded me of the power of that work and affirmed the direction we had taken at Hoover.

After stepping away from the principalship this summer to help care for my parents, I’ve been grateful to return to the Hope Institute as a Senior Character Coach. This new chapter has given me the opportunity to visit schools like Edgewood and Pizitz, where I get to witness the powerful impact of character education in action.

Members of the Hope Institute at Edgewood Elementary

What inspires me most is knowing that schools like these are modeling what’s possible. They remind us that when character is prioritized, students thrive - not only academically, but also as leaders, friends, and citizens.

To every educator working to build a culture of character: your work matters more than you know. It’s not always easy, and it certainly takes intentional effort, but the results are transformational.

Leaving Edgewood and Pizitz, I felt renewed hope for the future. Because if our schools can shape not just smarter students, but kinder and more compassionate human beings, then we’re shaping a better world.

Pizitz Principal, Alicia Hunsberger, reminds us of the importance of love in all we do.

Question for Reflection:

What would it look like in your school or organization if your core values were truly alive in every classroom, hallway, and interaction?

I’d love to hear from you—share your thoughts in the comments or join me over on Twitter/X. 

From Burnout to Boundaries: What I Learned About Leading With Intention

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Leadership burnout often isn’t about a lack of time -- it’s about how we spend our energy. Just like our finances, energy is a limited resource. If we overspend, we end up depleted. But if we invest wisely, we can show up as our best selves --even during the busiest, most demanding seasons.

I learned this lesson the hard way during my first principalship.

I was eager, committed, and determined to give 110%. I arrived early, stayed late, answered every call, and said yes to every request. I was always “on” -- because I believed that’s what great leaders do. But I didn’t set boundaries. I didn’t create space to recharge. And I didn’t realize, until it caught up with me, that I was giving so much away that there was nothing left in the tank.

I started noticing signs of burnout... short patience, trouble focusing, even resentment. I wasn’t showing up the way I wanted to. And that’s when I realized: this isn’t just about managing time. It’s about managing energy.

Since then, I try to be just as intentional with my energy as I am with my money. 

Each morning and week, I reflect:

~What’s draining me right now?

~What’s filling me back up?

~Where do I need to set a boundary or make a better investment?

One quote that’s guided me through this journey is from Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor:

“Please take responsibility for the energy you bring into the room.”

Dr. Taylor, a neuroscientist, shares her story in My Stroke of Insight, where she describes having a stroke and watching, in real time, as her body shut down. 

While in the hospital, she was unable to move or speak, but she was completely aware of the energy people brought into her room. Some medical staff rushed in and out, checking charts with distraction in their eyes. Others entered calmly, gently touching her foot and speaking softly, even when she couldn’t respond.

She felt the difference.

The experience led her to post a note on her hospital door: “Please take responsibility for the energy you bring into the room.”

As educators, we lead rooms all day long. Classrooms. Conference rooms. Offices. Hallways. And whether we realize it or not, our energy speaks before we do. It’s contagious. So we have to be aware of what we’re bringing in.

Jon Gordon talks about energy vampires: people, tasks, or habits that suck the energy out of a space. Maybe it’s that standing meeting that never has a clear purpose. Or the unresolved tension that lingers after a difficult conversation. Or the pressure we put on ourselves to be available 24/7. Those are withdrawals from our energy budget.

That’s why I do weekly energy audits. I ask myself:

• Which meetings or tasks consistently drain me?
• What three things reliably fill me back up?

For me, the bucket-fillers are:

• A long walk with a great podcast
• Time outside, working in the yard
• Sitting by the pool and listening to the water in the bubblers

These aren’t luxuries -- they’re necessities. They’re deposits into my energy account.

Because here’s the truth: Energy isn’t unlimited -- but it is renewable. And just like budgeting money, when we’re aware of where our energy is going, we can make smarter choices that serve us and those we lead.

So here’s your challenge for the week:

1. Do a quick energy audit.

2. Identify one thing to release.

3. Name one thing that refuels you.

You are your most important resource. Protect your peace. Lead with intention, and protect the energy you bring into the room.