culture

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Giving less than 100% is 100% okay.

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As educators, we are expected to “give 110% of every day to every student!” Our parents expect it, our students and colleagues expect it, and we expect it of ourselves. Recently, though, I’ve started to wonder if this expectation is unfair, unhealthy even. For our fellow staff members, our students, and for ourselves.

I think there is an appropriateness in the expectation that we come to work prepared and ready to give it our best- absolutely! I think it’s appropriate that we set the bar high, at giving 100%. I also think it’s okay that fail.

More accurately, I think we probably should.

At our core we are defined by our profession - We Are Educators! - but we are also more than that. We are the million other things that exist outside our schools, not the least of which include the roles of spouses, parents, and children to our parents. And when they call, with tears so loud we cannot hear their words, they steal away from our 100%. And that is okay.

In fact, it is more than okay. It is human. And if we are to teach our students, our staff, and our community anything, it is how to be a better one, not a perfect one.

As educators, at times, we go to work to get distracted because immersing ourselves in our classrooms and buildings is something that can bring us joy and purpose; it can remind us of the largeness and beauty of life rather than the pricks of it (overwhelming bills, rocky relationships, harsh realities).

But showing up and pushing aside the distractions, day in and day out, is also immensely lonely. And dangerous. And in a profession that advertises and celebrates “relationships, relationships, relationships,” living in such isolation seems a bit hypocritical.

If we want to build relationships with our staff and students, if we want to build strong bonds and healthy cultures, along with professionalism we need personalism (which is an actual word, I just now discovered, which means “the quality of being personal”). And the greatest contributor to pursuing the quality of being personal is being comfortable with our imperfections.

As educators, we have enough to deal with. We are underpaid, undervalued, and overwhelmed with keeping the peace between combative people groups and conflicting ideologies. Being personal, being human is not something we should have to worry about. It should be something we embrace.

We need to be okay with not being able to give 100%.

@AdamMGrant

“Marriage is never 50-50” Brene Brown states, and is “the biggest crock of bullshit” she has ever heard.

So too is believing that we, as educators in care of our students, our schools, our communities, AND our families can give 100% to everyone, all the time. Because we can’t.

What we can do, however, is try and give as much as we can sometimes, 80% other times, and on those really rough days where we didn’t get any sleep because the car broke down or the hospital called and Mom needs more testing, we give 20%. And that is okay.

What isn’t okay is feeling guilty about it, putting on a professional face, getting distracted, and demanding that we be 100% when we really only have 70. What isn’t okay is believing that professionalism doesn’t have room for personalism.

A healthy marriage, Brene Brown continues, quantifies where we are. “I’m at a 20 today.” Be it energy, investment, kindness, or patience, saying openly and honestly, “I’ve got 20 to give today” allows the other to endure what we cannot. It allows them to see where we are and say, “No worries. I can pick up the 80.” Or, as is often the case, they can also say, “I’m at a solid 45,” providing both with the understanding that tonight, we need to scale back, order a pizza, and be content with the laundry unfolded and dishes dirty in the sink.

Teacher groups and leadership teams should be no different, no less transparent.

Whether we are showing up to get distracted or showing up distracted, sharing with a few trusted colleagues and building leaders not only builds trust, it strengthens the staff and school community. It builds personalism AND professionalism. Most importantly, it models the greatest rule for a healthy life: Do your best with what you have.

We can be distracted AND STILL teach our asses off.

We can be frustrated with our spouse AND STILL be kind, personal, and available to our fellow staff and students.

We can be worried about Mom or Dad AND STILL notice that student who needs a shoulder to cry.

We can be less than 100% AND STILL be helpful, purposeful, and present. Because the reality is, we are often less than 100%. I know I am, anyway. And when I try my best to hide it, to cover up the fact that I am struggling with outside-of-school issues, I feel even worse. I feel isolated. Sharing that I am distracted allows others to understand where my head and heart are today. It also invites them into sharing about their life, their struggles, and their distractions. It allows us to understand and help each other, just as we are.

Sometimes we go to work to get distracted. Other times we go to work distracted. Neither of which steals away from our professionalism. Both of which push us towards personalism.

Which is exactly where we need to be.

#DoGreatThings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

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Blog : Education : On Leadership

Accountability

Accountability

“What if” is a game I like to play with my staff.

“What if,” I ask them, “all our kids were 4.0 students who earned full-ride scholarships to the best schools in the state… yet graduated jerks? Would it be worth it?”

Of course not.

“What if,” I continue, “they graduated 4.0 students, earned full-ride scholarships and grew into quality men and women… but in order to make that happen, you had to work insane hours, lose your family and friends, and end up alone? Would you do it?”

Again, no.

After a few more scenarios just like that, the point becomes obvious: as educators, we need balance. We need boundaries. And we need accountability.

Accountability: It’s the Goal

“When the profit motive gets unmoored from the purpose motive, bad things happen,” Daniel Pink says from the TED stage. We create bad products, deliver lame services, and build uninspiring places to work.
In schools, when we drift from purpose, we sacrifice accountability.

In a world obsessed with numbers, accountability often gets pushed aside because it isn’t easily measured. But it can be. Just like we can’t see the wind but can measure its effects, we can measure the impact of accountability on a classroom, a staff, and a community.

When a school has a clear and sincere code of accountability—shared expectations, consistent follow-through, honest reflection—teachers feel safe, students exercise autonomy, and the community buys in. Unsurprisingly, test scores rise. And when they do, teachers are encouraged, students are inspired, and the community is more engaged.

But high test scores are not the goal and never should be.

First, if test scores are the goal, the bar is way too low. We can chase numbers and still end up with lousy teachers, disengaged students, and a toxic culture. If we want to be a respectable school, we need higher standards than high scores.

Second, test scores are shallow. Teachers didn’t accumulate debt, give up nights and weekends, and commit to a life of service just to help kids chase a number. They chose this profession to make a difference—to shape young men and women into quality older men and women. High test scores are worth celebrating, sure… but like the day after a Jay Gatsby party, the sparkle fades quickly. The fireworks end. And we’re left staring at a distant green light, wishing for something deeper. Something real.

As I tell my staff often:
We can teach students to never break the law and still have them grow into bad people.
Or we can teach them to be men and women of character and integrity… who then naturally choose lives that honor the law.

Test scores aren’t the goal. They’re just a checkpoint on the way to something bigger.

Accountability: How It Shows Up

We don’t just want to be schools doing great things; we want to be schools filled with great people doing great things. But that requires something essential: staff and students who feel safe, free, and part of something bigger than themselves.
Accountability provides that.

Accountability Creates Freedom

Believe it or not, boundaries create freedom.

Architects once studied how a fence affected children at play. On unfenced playgrounds, students huddled close to the teacher, unwilling to wander. But when a simple fence outlined the space, kids explored the entire playground—running, climbing, discovering—because they knew exactly where the boundaries were.

Accountability is the fence of a school.
When staff and students know what’s right, expected, and non-negotiable, they are free to teach, learn, act, and make decisions within those boundaries.

Accountability Provides Safety

Even if we rarely need it, knowing a structure exists matters.
It steadies the room.
It steadies the adults.
It steadies the kids.

Accountability Protects Us From Ourselves

Our desire to succeed—to be the best school, the best teacher, the best boss—can drift if we’re not grounded. Accountability keeps our motives tethered to our purpose.

Accountability Still Requires Kindness

Clear expectations and kind hearts are not opposites.
They’re partners.
One shapes the path; the other softens the journey.

Accountability is the boundary that allows our motivation to flourish.
It protects us.
It frees us.
It forms the foundation of a healthy classroom, a healthy school, and a healthy community.

Accountability is what allows us to do great things—
and inspires others to follow.