I often joke that someday, I’ll retire to a beach and open an ice cream shop that serves just three flavors. And if you don’t like them, there’s another shop down the road. Simple, right?

There’s something appealing about that fantasy. It’s tidy, it’s contained, and it’s entirely optional. If someone isn’t happy, they walk away. No harm done.

But in public education, it’s not like that. In fact, it’s the opposite. You can’t please everyone, but you still serve everyone.

Every child in our community walks through our doors expecting a high-quality education tailored to their needs, and every family expects that to be delivered with care, clarity, and value. We are not selling a product. We’re delivering something far more complex: a public promise and a public good, one that serves everyone in our community, whether or not their children attend our schools, because an educated community benefits us all.

We Serve Everyone

In an ice cream shop, the consequences of disagreement are small: pick another cone, or leave altogether. In education, disagreement isn’t a choice; it’s a given. And still, we move forward.

We serve every student. Regardless of learning style, background, support system, or personal needs. And we do it with the understanding that what one child needs isn’t what the next one needs, and that personalization isn’t just a luxury, it’s an expectation.

At the same time, we are stewards of public trust. Our community expects transparency, efficiency, and visible value. And they should. We’re not just delivering results. We’re helping our community see that public education can work for all.

Personalization That Reflects Real Life

Serving everyone well means listening closely, then responding with care. It’s not about offering endless choices. It’s about making sure what we offer actually works for the people we serve. 

In District 67, our technology workgroup is a great example of this mindset. Families, educators, and leaders are collaborating to reevaluate the use of classroom technology, not just to keep pace with innovation, but to help students and parents strike a balance between digital tools and real-world learning. It’s thoughtful, collaborative, and grounded in the idea that what we offer should meet students where they are.

In District 115, students regularly tell me how much they value Personal Learning Time (PLT), which is a flexible time built into their schedules to connect with teachers, catch up on work, or simply move at their own pace. PLT has become one of the most cherished aspects of the school day because it embodies the idea that learning is a personal experience. When students feel trusted and supported, they make academic progress and develop stronger relationships with staff and peers.

These are just two examples, but they reflect a larger truth: value isn’t about pleasing everyone. It’s about listening well, designing with intention, and delivering experiences that matter.

The Secret Ingredient Is Trust

You can’t build community just by showing up when you need something. That’s true in leadership, and it’s true in life.

When our districts prepared to place a bond issue on the ballot, we didn’t start by telling people what we wanted. We started by asking questions. We listened. We created space for advisory groups, coffees, strategic planning sessions, and facility tours, not as a one-time tactic, but as an ongoing commitment.

And that commitment has continued long after the vote. In September, at LFHS’s 90th anniversary Homecoming, we will open our doors to the community and alumni to see, react to, and share in the progress of the referendum. That’s the point. Trust is built between the meetings. It’s earned over coffee, at advisory tables, and in honest conversations with students and families about what’s working and what’s not.

We don’t get to scoop the same thing for everyone and call it a day. We have to keep asking, keep adjusting, and keep showing up.

The Work Is Messy, But Meaningful

I still like the idea of that beach shop. Of scooping three neat flavors and letting people pick what works for them. But this work—this messy, demanding, beautiful work—is so much more meaningful.

Every day, we aim to deliver something that reflects the full complexity of our students, our staff, and our community. We’re not offering a menu. We’re building a system that listens, evolves, and serves with purpose.

It’s not always sweet. It’s not always simple. But it’s still what I’m proud to serve.

In our final summer post, a sharpened-pencil kind of approach on the year ahead and why the start of school still inspires hope, and how families, educators, and communities can partner for what matters most.