Leading by Learning

| The following reflection from a current assistant superintendent captures how one leader embodied the heart of modeling learning, staying close to instruction, and earning credibility not through position, but through authentic participation in the work.

In my fourth year as principal, our school received a grant to launch a personalized learning instructional framework. The grant came with eighteen months of professional learning, new technology infrastructure, and an ed-tech pilot platform.

By that point, I had already learned the hard way not to commit teachers to multi-year initiatives without their input—no matter the pressure from external stakeholders. So when the grant was presented, I invited a diverse group of teachers, representing multiple perspectives, to the table. I was transparent about the terms and made it clear that I was prepared to decline if they weren’t on board. To my relief, they were honored, curious, and enthusiastic. They asked thoughtful questions, and from there we launched a pilot with teachers from grades 1, 4, 5, and junior high writing—alongside me.

At the time, I was the only administrator in our 210-student, inner-city Catholic school—under-resourced but rich in culture and spirit. I was also the 8th-grade social studies teacher. For my first six years as principal, I kept teaching daily, last period. At first, I did it for selfish reasons. As a young principal uncertain about the future, I wanted to maintain my craft. But as the work intensified, teaching became my favorite part of the day. It grounded me, kept me connected to students, and reminded me why every decision mattered. Over time, it became a philosophy: all administrators should teach.

When we move from the classroom into leadership, our teaching shifts from students to adults—but the core work remains the same. The further we drift from the student experience, the harder it is to lead instruction with credibility. That’s why I asked my assistant principals to teach, too—sometimes one period a day, other times a weekly elective or an integrated STEM course. Even now, as an assistant superintendent, I find ways to stay close to classrooms—like running a monthly LEGO STEM club at a local school.

When the personalized learning initiative began, I didn’t lead from the sidelines. I joined my teachers in the learning. When they designed a six-week implementation cycle, I created one for my social studies class. I tested strategies, opened my room for feedback, and shared my own struggles and small wins. I was both a learner and a leader, giving and receiving feedback at every PD and PLC.

This was not the culture I inherited. Four years earlier, teachers worked in isolation. Collaboration meant logistics, not instruction. Vulnerability was rare. Coaching wasn’t even in our vocabulary. But together, we built something different. We gave up Saturdays for learning, pushed through discomfort, and supported one another. By the end of two years, our teachers had grown into confident, innovative practitioners.

What began as a personal decision to keep teaching evolved into a leadership philosophy: when leaders model vulnerability, stay connected to instruction, and learn alongside their teams, they earn the credibility to guide change. Whether through teaching, coaching, or engaging in classroom practice, leaders must show they’re willing to do the work they ask of others. That’s what keeps Tier 1 instruction—and the learning culture that sustains it—at the center of school improvement.