Ponderings From The Piano
“Toxic leadership doesn’t solve problems—it punishes the people who name them.” In healthy school systems, leaders inspire, listen, and grow alongside their staff. However, in toxic environments, leadership becomes a mechanism of control, where questioning the status quo is seen as a threat rather than an opportunity for improvement.
I've come to understand this hard truth: Toxic leadership doesn't solve problems—they punish the people who name them. If your courage to speak the truth is met with backlash and retaliation, the failure lies not in your voice, but in the system that fears it. Working in a system where voicing concern leads to punishment rather than progress is emotionally and professionally draining. It's a place where fear replaces trust, and compliance is valued more than collaboration. But if you find yourself in such a place, know this: your courage to speak up is not weakness - it's integrity. Naming what's broken isn't the problem; it's the first step toward something better. And while toxic systems may try to isolate or discredit those who speak the truth, history has shown time and again that silence never leads to transformation—only truth does. We must advocate for leadership that invites feedback, shares power and fosters growth because schools should be places of learning for everyone, not just students.
0 Comments
“Friendship doesn’t fall apart because of mistakes. It falls apart when someone refuses to make things right.” The Disappearing ActHave you ever had a friend vanish the moment things got uncomfortable? One mistake, one misstep — and suddenly, they’re gone. No text. No apology. Just silence. It’s confusing, painful, and often leaves you wondering what you did wrong. But the truth is, their silence often says more about them than it does about you. Avoidance Isn’t Innocent — It’s EvasionPeople don’t just disappear because they’re embarrassed. They disappear because they want to avoid accountability. They know they’ve wronged you — and rather than owning up to it, they choose the easy route: ghosting. But avoiding an apology isn’t just about pride. It’s about ego. It’s about not being willing to do the hard, human thing and take responsibility. What Real Friends DoReal friends mess up — we all do. But real friends also show up. They apologize because the friendship matters more than their pride. They don’t let a moment of discomfort become the end of a meaningful connection. Because friendship doesn’t fall apart over mistakes. It falls apart when someone refuses to make things right. The Hardest — and Healthiest — LessonIf someone disappears after they hurt you, don’t chase them. Friendship isn’t meant to be a one-way performance where your silence is the price for keeping the peace. Let their absence speak. It’s not a loss — it’s an answer. You now know who values your friendship and who only stayed as long as they didn’t have to face their reflection. Closing Thought:Never feel guilty for expecting basic decency.
True friendship lives in honesty, accountability, and mutual care — not in silence after betrayal. "Most of this school year, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of responsibilities, constantly treading water just to keep from going under." To all my fellow educators—how was your school year?
What did you learn? And perhaps most importantly: how are you doing? As the academic year comes to a close, I’ve found myself reflecting more deeply than ever before. This year was different—not because of one catastrophic moment or event, but because of the relentless, accumulating weight of everything. I want to share these thoughts—not to elicit sympathy, but because I know I’m not the only one carrying this burden. There’s value in naming what we’re experiencing and starting an honest conversation about the realities of teaching in 2025. This has been, without question, the most difficult year of my career. Despite being someone who thrives on structure and prides himself on time management and organization, it simply wasn’t enough this year. The demands stretched beyond what could reasonably fit into a school day—or even an extended workday. As a high school band director and music teacher, I often found myself finishing dinner (if I even made it that far) only to return to my desk for another hour—or several—of work. And while my students remain the brightest part of this profession—the reason I stay inspired, the reason I show up—the workload outside of teaching them has become overwhelming. Planning, emails, paperwork, logistics, after-school obligations, and events… it never truly stops. Eventually, I started to notice the toll. Time with my wife and family became fragmented. My personal passions and hobbies took a back seat. And the doctoral work I’ve poured my heart into was placed on indefinite hold—not for lack of interest, but because the energy just isn’t there anymore. That loss, in particular, stings. This year has left me with questions I can’t ignore:
So, I’m putting this out there—not just as a reflection, but as a call to conversation. Can education in 2025 be sustainable? Can we keep working under these same conditions, year after year? Is the traditional model of schooling still right for the next generation? As we prepare for another school year, I hope we won’t just "reset" without asking these hard questions. The system isn’t just about standards, policies, and logistics. It’s about people—and those people are hurting. Let’s start talking. Let’s reimagine. And if you’re an educator, I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts. What have you experienced this year? What are you carrying with you into summer—and beyond? |