In her seminal work Fierce Conversations, Susan Scott (2004) highlights the importance of facilitating tough dialogue with members of an organization. Despite what the preceding adjective suggests, “a fierce conversation,” per Scott, “is one in which we come out from behind ourselves into the conversation and make it real” (p. 4). Before I can do anything in the following five arenas, I must learn how best to have fierce conversations and, in turn, create a culture of rumbling at Barrie—or any institution, for that matter. Granted, this process will take time—more than this year, in fact. Drawing from evolutionary biology, Ronald Heifetz, et al. (2009), note that adaptive leadership “takes time” in order “to consolidate [organizational and political procedures] into new sets of norms and processes” (pp. 4–5). Cultural shifts are not immediate, much to the consternation of change agents. I was one of those people, saying at my first faculty meeting at St. Albans School, an organization that believes deeply in the power of its traditions, that tradition is by its very nature exclusionary. As a matter of fact, I doubled down on this belief in a narrative reflection that I submitted to the Associate Dean of Faculty and Upper School Head at St. Albans: “Tradition is by its very nature exclusionary: It develops mainly through one particular in-group and then disseminates from that group through the others. They in turn set the tone—and by extension the culture—of the particular institution, be it a school community, workplace, or religious organization. If something or someone doesn’t fit that tradition or doesn’t participate in it, then punishment comes in the form of limiting mobility within that structure. Disenfranchisement, marginalization, rejection: Call it what you want, but these are all consequences of what Tradition can do to people” (p. 4). My perspective then embraced an “either/or” mentality that made everything a polarity. I was wrong then.

Growing into leadership means, to draw from my therapist, “embracing gray” and committing to molding Barrie into what St. Albans School Head of School Jason Robinson (2020) calls a “‘both/and’ institution”: a school enabled to “transcend false dichotomies and false choices, to show that many of the seemingly intractable problems and polarities of our time can be reconciled in a larger structure of meaning if we have the courage and vision to see them in a different way” (Robinson). Here, Robinson draws from the wisdom of organizational leaders on the nature of problems and polarities: Good leaders know that they must solve problems and manage polarities—and identify which is which. I have a long way to go, but if I am to effect any kind of change at any kind of school, I need to learn both how to identify problems and polarities and how to have tough conversations about both with others.

The core of any administrator’s work now is gaining competency, if not fluency, in the important and transformational work of diversity, equity, and inclusion. Muhammad Khalifa (2018)’s framework for culturally responsive school leadership will help me guide the school through our efforts to be an eminent institution committed to equity, inclusion, and belonging. My goal to develop a Center for Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging at Barrie begins, really, with community epistemologies. Khalifa notes that “educators do not understand that minoritized community members who have been historically oppressed see schools differently than teachers, administrators, and other staff” (p. 42). This observation applies to Barrie, for our overwhelmingly nonwhite students and families feel that Barrie does not care about them. In fact, a “lifer”—a student who has been here since age two—mentioned to me that Barrie is a “hostile environment,” and that the rift between students and faculty and staff has only grown in recent years due to administrative policies. Khalifa urges leaders to “[r]ecogniz[e] the historical, oppressive structural barriers that minoritized communities face” [a]s a necessary first step” to being culturally responsive (p. 47). Liza Talusan (2022) agrees, noting that “[i]dentity-conscious practice is a process of realizing that who you are informs and impacts how you act, how you interact with others, and how you see the world around you” (p. 18). Knowing both how my students navigate the numerous intersections of their identities and how I, with all the multitudes I contain, can best support them, is integral to my work as a leader. Khalifa insists that by “trac[ing] the origins of these differences…to discuss their impact on current schooling contexts,” I can in turn shape the contexts to better serve students and families alike. It will not be easy. For instance, our Ethiopian-American students hold unfavorable views of the LGBTQIA2S+ community, and both our Head of Middle & Upper School and I are discerning together how best to support our students while also holding them accountable for their words and deeds. The same could be said in teaching our faculty about the very real impact of microaggressions on our minoritized students. Now that I have a DEI committee, a team of individuals who represent a cross-section of campus, we can make good on our Head of School’s promise to make Barrie the most inclusive school in the region.

Any Head of School needs to know money matters within the independent school context. As Jim Collins (2005) notes in Good to Great and the Social Sectors, “[i]n the social sectors, the critical question is not ‘How much money do we make per dollar of invested capital?’ but ‘How effectively do we deliver on our mission and make a distinctive impact, relative to our resources?’” (p. 5). Independent schools are an interesting hybrid of the two: In outlining the “economic engine in the social sector,” Collins points out that private schools fall into Quadrant III, a “hybrid quadrant [that] consists of those that blend charitable donations with business revenues” (p. 21). Independent schools rely heavily on tuition dollars from families, as well as donations from families, alumni, trustees, faculty and staff, and philanthropic organizations. As I seek an adequate answer to Collins’ question at Barrie, I hope to learn more about the symbiotic relationship between the financial health of the institution and its (sustain)ability in delivering its mission of providing a world-class, global education to its students. As Sarah Jaffe (2022) notes in her interview with guest-host Rogé Karma on The Ezra Klein Show, “[Teachers’] working conditions are their students’ learning conditions,” so in knowing more deeply the ways we can set up the conditions better, we can, in turn, set our faculty and staff—and, in turn, our students—up for success (Jaffe).

While I am an administrator, I forever remain a teacher—and student—at heart. Not only is that reminder important to my work, but many teachers also cite the importance of having an administrator recognize and remember their “why”: the core of and motivation for their careers in education. Often, school leaders who are not in the classroom are admonished by faculty for not “getting it,” so to speak, for they are far removed from the daily grind of the work that they can no longer speak the language of teaching. Thus, it behooves me as an educator to know the intricacies of curriculum and instruction at Barrie, especially since for the first time in my career this year, I am out of the classroom. Familiarizing myself with the praxes of both the Lower and Middle & Upper Schools will look different, as I will need to visit more classrooms and develop competencies in peer influence (cf. Supovitz, et al., 2009). Indeed, it is important for me to cultivate a sense of what Jonathan Supovitz, et al., call “principal leadership”—“a construct made up of leaders’ emphasis on mission and goals, emphasis on community and trust, and focus on instruction” (p. 38). This set of foci constitutes the bare minimum of my engagement with teachers and their daily work of shaping the minds of the next generation. Similarly, this approach teeters on creating a top-down approach, which Sadler (2013) argues could stymie any efforts to galvanize a team. Instead, I want to work with my teachers to create a culture of peer influence and peer leadership, so that within Barrie, ideas like “instructional conversations, interactions among faculty members around issues of teaching and learning, and instructional advice networks” can become a lived practice (p. 38). By embracing a learner’s mindset and working to learn more about Montessori methods, I can help our teachers in the Lower School augment their curricular and instructional practice to serve our students even better. Sadler agrees: “Leaders who are designers, stewards, and teachers see their core task as that of bringing about creative tension by highlighting the gap between reality and the vision” (2013, p. 423). In showing my Lower School colleagues the extent to which their vision for primary education overlaps with their practice, I can work with a team of teachers to influence one another to be better teachers for their students.

Aside from being an independent school’s chief executive, the principal job of a Head of School is executive fundraiser. Therefore, in my internship, I hope to learn more about the inner workings of institutional advancement, including fundraising, communications, admissions, and alumni relations. In a 2010 NAIS document on branding, Carol Cheney and Peter Gow highlight the importance of branding as messaging: “The best definition of brand (image) is how people remember you. In this sense, brand is a collective idea about who you are” (p. 6). As we undergo a new Head of School search, the focus on telling Barrie’s story honestly and earnestly matters greatly, as our new Head will start writing a proverbial new chapter and crystallize what Barrie will be. As a member of senior leadership, I must endeavor to help out this transition by knowing the intricacies of Barrie’s narrative, pointing out what makes this place “very Barrie,” and being honest about what the school needs to do to live the brand.

In a Fall 2023 interview on Member Voices by the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS), Head of School Melinda Bihn notes that emerging leaders need to learn about the importance of school governance early in their careers, so she “give[s]…colleagues on [her] leadership team an opportunity to learn about” it by “bring[ing] them into relationships with the board” (qtd. in NAIS, p. 33). Any member of senior leadership should have some kind of working relationship with their board of governors (at Barrie, we have a Board of Trustees); without that connection or mutual understanding, nothing substantial can be done to move the organization forward and best serve the students entrusted to our care. Thus, I wish to know how a Head of School interacts with the Board of Trustees; as a result, this knowledge can deepen my ability to understand the politics that a Head of School must navigate. Additionally, as Annie McKee, et al. (2008), point out, “Resonant leaders are attuned to themselves and to the needs, desires, and dreams of the people they lead. They are energized by the changing environment and create conditions in which people can be their best. Such leaders seek a meaningful future for their people, organizations, and communities” (p. 2). Board members, especially of any educational institution, should internalize this truth and commit themselves to set the conditions for the Head of School’s—and, by extension, Barrie’s—success. With a new Head of School arriving on 1 July 2024, the imperative has never been greater for the board to grow in its resonant leadership.