Each summer, as school buildings settle into a slower rhythm and classrooms fall quiet, I find myself reflecting, not just on the year behind us, but on the road ahead. These so-called dog days of summer might suggest rest, but for those of us in education, they offer something more vital: renewal.

Twelve years ago, I stepped into the superintendency for the first time. Someone once told me (only half-joking) that each year in this role is like aging in dog years. I can confirm there’s wisdom in that math.

The Pace and Pressure of the Role

Leadership in education is more than a title. It is a balance of vision, crisis response, community building, and stewardship. While the school year may end in June, the work doesn’t pause. Summer is when much of the strategic work happens, including hiring, construction, planning, and budgeting.

Here in Lake Forest, I serve two distinct districts, each with its own board, identity, and expectations. We operate with four collective bargaining agreements and two independent systems, supported by a shared team of about 40 staff members.

Yes, it is complex. But it is also deeply rewarding.

The moments that sustain me are not always public milestones. More often, they are the quiet ones; when students feel seen, staff feel heard, and a plan set in motion months or years ago finally becomes a reality.

Leading Through Stress and Scrutiny

A recent RAND study named the superintendency one of the most stressful roles in America. I don’t disagree. Leadership today is more stressful and more constant than ever before.

Many of us who have stayed in these roles have become experts in stress management, whether we meant to or not. But strategy and stamina can only go so far. What sustains this work is remembering the human side of the role, starting with our own.

The scrutiny that once came in cycles now lives online, 24/7. Community conversations are often replaced by comment threads. It can be difficult to stay focused when noise tries to drown out purpose.

I often say (only half-joking) that I dream of retiring to a beach, selling ice cream with just three flavors. If you don’t like them, there’s another shop down the road. Simple, right? But for now, I have chosen this — the imperfect, complicated, deeply human work of public education.

What Keeps Me Connected

In the dog days of summer, when the pace slows just enough to reflect, I find myself asking: What keeps us going?

For me, the answer is presence — real, imperfect, human presence.

Each year, I shadow students in both districts, joining them in classes, walking hallways, sharing lunch, and listening during those quiet, in-between moments. I ask our graduating 8th graders and high school seniors what we got right, where we can grow, and what they hope we carry forward.

And those conversations don’t stop in summer. I run into many of our students and their families when I’m out with my own children at restaurants, the pool, or the park. The line between superintendent and neighbor disappears. I am just another parent trying to raise strong, kind, resilient kids in a challenging world.

Raising my family here has given me a front-row seat to the hopes and struggles of the families we serve. It has deepened my empathy and reminded me that our work is not about systems, it is about people.

That is why we have created opportunities for student and family voices to be heard, including directly with our Boards of Education and through our Superintendent Advisory Council. These perspectives sharpen our focus and make our decisions more honest, responsive, and relevant. Because if we are not listening to those we serve, we are missing the point.

These are the moments that renew me. They remind me that leadership, especially in public education, is not about perfection. It’s about showing up with clarity, compassion, and a willingness to walk alongside others, even when the path is challenging.

A Season for Reflection and Renewal

As we move through summer, I invite students, families, and educators to reflect with me.

Let’s enter this quieter season not with complacency, but with clarity. Let’s choose grace in our assumptions. Let’s assume positive intent in our conversations between schools and families, leaders and communities, neighbors and friends.

This work is not perfect. Some days, it is just hard. But even then, I am reminded: public education remains one of the greatest levers for change we have. And our children deserve our very best.

In my next post, we’ll cool off with something a little sweeter — exploring what leadership and ice cream have in common: three flavors, no beach, and a lot of heart.