The Courage to Lead: The Hidden Strength of Principals
A Reflection Inspired by This American Principal Podcast
When I sat down to record the first episodes of This American Principal, I didn’t anticipate how deeply the conversations would stir up my own reflections on what it truly means to sit in the principal’s chair. The stories my guests shared—woven together with my own experiences—made one truth undeniable: Leading a school takes a kind of courage that is rarely recognized, and too often, it is profoundly lonely.
This American Principal: Lifting up the voices of those who lead our schools - season premiers Friday, September 5th.
The Loneliness of Leadership
In California, and across much of the country, we’ve grown more intentional about celebrating teachers. We’ve gone from a single day to an entire week of recognition—complete with holiday gifts, online donation drives, and PTA contributions. Even in low-income communities, I have seen teachers showered with Starbucks cards, stuffed animals, handwritten notes, and heartfelt appreciation. And as someone who comes from a long line of educators and who spent many years in the classroom, I know how important this is.
But as a principal, I often felt the contrast. Teachers have come to expect this tradition of recognition, and sometimes gratitude is overlooked. I remember our PTA president once telling me that after spending hours carting around free coffee and donuts, not a single teacher said thank you. I’ve felt that sting myself. I once paid out of pocket to host a luncheon for staff. Instead of appreciation, the only comment I received was: “Where’s the turkey?”
The truth? I didn’t even know “National Principal’s Day” existed until someone sent me a meeting invite for it. Rather than feeling honored, it only made me feel worse—because the day came and went without so much as a card, a text, or even a passing acknowledgment.
What Principals Face Instead
Instead of recognition, principals are often met with hostility—and sometimes dangerous situations. One of my podcast guests described a parent throwing nearly every item from her purse across the office after learning her child had been caught vaping in the bathroom. Another shared how police had to be called to escort parents whose anger escalated beyond control. A colleague of mine even had a knife pulled on him.
Principals are not trained psychologists, yet we’re expected to absorb the daily mental health crises that come through our doors. We’re not police officers, yet we stand on the frontlines when fear, anxiety, and anger about schooling boil over. And with every tragedy, we carry the weight of decisions no one should have to make: How do I protect my students and staff? How do I bear the burden of being the one who must decide?
Carrying the Weight of a Community
Principals don’t receive special discounts, parade invitations, or public honors. We don’t march alongside first responders on the Fourth of July. And yet, in moments of national crisis—school shootings, teenage suicides, community tragedies—it is the principal who stands at the center, bearing responsibility for the safety of an entire school community.
After the most recent school shooting in Minneapolis, coverage rightly focused on the children, families, and community. But I couldn’t help but think to myself: What about the principal? Are they okay? What sacrifices did they make that day? How are they carrying the weight of being the one who had to keep everyone safe?
So much of what we experience every day is confidential, leaving us to hold it silently. Some principals stay quiet to protect the reputation of a school they’ve worked tirelessly to strengthen. Others stay silent because it feels easier to say “It’s fine,” even when it isn’t.
“A leader in education doesn’t just shape a school; they shape the future of every child who walks through its doors. ”
A Call for Recognition
The courage to lead a school is not glamorous. Especially now—amid rising public dissatisfaction with education, dwindling resources for our most vulnerable communities, and the influence of social media spreading falsehoods before leaders have a chance to respond. The work doesn’t come with applause or positive headlines. It is found instead in the sleepless nights, the unspoken sacrifices, and the resilience it takes to show up again the next morning, ready to face whatever comes through the gates.
As we lift up the voices of principals through This American Principal, my hope is that we begin to shift the narrative—to see principals not just as administrators, but as human beings carrying extraordinary burdens with extraordinary courage.
Because the truth is this: Behind every teacher, every student, every family—there is a principal, standing at the center, holding it all together. And maybe it’s time we finally said, thank you.
