I love to lead.  There, I said it.  I think that working with people, using language and actions strategically to boost motivation and skill, and guiding teams to take on big challenges is terribly exciting and important work.  When you ask school administrators why they left the classroom, more often than not they will tell you a story about how they resisted the invitation, how they had to be coaxed over time.  Ultimately, you might get some acknowledgment about the opportunity to have greater impact on kids, but even that comes begrudgingly.  In education, leaving the classroom is, to a great degree, the unpardonable sin.

I have always known I would become an administrator.  Who admits to that?  Administrators are supposed to pretend that they never really considered anything but teaching.  I suppose for a lot of school leaders, they genuinely never planned on becoming an administrator.  We call it “turning to the dark side” when a teacher leaves the classroom, and I premeditated my crime!  My premeditation was so severe, in fact, that I spent my last year going through the National Board Certification process to help build my credibility as a leader of teachers.  I was already out of classroom when I was formally notified that I had received my Board Certification.

So let’s just come clean.  I got into education to lead.

Don’t get me wrong, I genuinely loved my time in the classroom.  I love the act of teaching and I love talking about teaching.  Mostly, I love interacting with students each day.  Their energy and enthusiasm – or even their disdain – bring an urgency and authenticity to the work.   Teaching is a beautiful, if not the beautiful, profession.  Yet I have to recognize that no matter how well intentioned my decisions or genuine my respect and admiration for teachers, I’m not really part of the teacher club any more.  I left the classroom.

And to be honest, we need more strong teachers to do the same.

Let me give you an example.  Both my mother (in Arizona) and sister (in DC) are 3rd grade teachers.  They are both tremendous educators whose skill in the classroom is rivaled only by their love for kids.  It shouldn’t be surprising that at some point when I talk to either my mom or sister, the conversation inevitably turns to education, and when it does, we often talk about their principals.  It’s not always pretty.  Let’s just say that not all principals are created equal, and that effectiveness variability has a huge impact on the professional and emotional lives of teachers and students both.

Leadership in education shouldn’t be an accident.  It shouldn’t be an afterthought.  We’re need to develop a cadre of effective, equity-minded school leaders that are not apologetic about the decision to leave the classroom.  If their ambition is rooted in a genuine desire to provide powerful learning environments and programs for kids, then that ambition is good for teachers too.

We’re building a new school of the arts in Santa Ana.  It’s anything but straightforward, especially as we try to wrap our heads around the skills, attitudes, and mindsets today’s artists and designers need to thrive.  How do you prepare a freelance artist, an aspiring filmmaker, or a precocious dancer to translate their talent and art into a sustainable way of life?  How do you deliberately develop artists with a social media presence as commanding as their stage presence?

We don’t have a lot of high school models to go on.  I’m not just talking about a traditional arts conservatory.  If we were primarily after a program that prepares students for dance companies, philharmonics, and established theatre troupes, then a traditional arts school would be more than adequate.  Heck, Santa Ana is already home to a highly regarded art conservatory (albeit not necessarily one primarily focused on the youth of Santa Ana).

Of course, artists are highly skilled workers whose preparation is dependent on high standards of quality and instructional rigor.  I’m a big fan of conservatory art schools who believes we need more, and not less of them.   Yet somehow, and perhaps more particularly in the context of students living in poverty, the conservatory model does not seem like enough.

We’re thinking about preparing entrepreneurial artists.  Artists whose modes of expression don’t yet have a broad audience.  We’re talking about art whose destination will be new media platforms, whose reach goes beyond privileged concert halls or hushed arts galleries.  We want graduates who are as adept at building relationships and creating niche markets as they are writing a screenplay or harmonizing a melody.

Quite frankly, we don’t completely know how to do this.  We don’t come with all the answers.  What we do bring is commitment.  We’ve brought together our most talented faculty, partnered with professional arts organizations, and cultivated pathways into post-secondary arts programs.  We’re prepared to develop a personalized, multi-disciplinary course of study for each of our admitted students.  All of this comes with the goal of preparing graduates with the aptitude to fashion a life that allows a full expression of their artistic vision.