Why I Left the Superintendency for a Principalship.

As I look back over my 26-year career as a public school educator, I sometimes wonder if I have been unduly influenced by the perceptions of family members and fellow educators as I've climbed the professional ladder of school administration.

I am not sure of the answer. I know I became a principal, in part, because of Marion Blue and George Hufford, my junior high and high school principals in Wauseon, Ohio, in the early 1960s. I also held the odd notion that a high school could and should be more than it seemed to be in the decade of the '70s, and I felt I could make a difference.

Over the years my educational philosophy developed to the point where I could articulate it confidently. My vision began to expand and a clear personal and professional mission emerged. Over the years my mission matured, but for all intents and purposes it remains the same today as in the beginning of my professional walk.

Children/students are miracles waiting to happen. All children not only can, but will learn. And I, we (the educators), set the stage, create a positive learning environment, facilitate, manipulate, con, sell, and just make certain the miracle is allowed to happen.

With strong role models, personal desire, and missionary zeal, I moved toward the principalship.

Early Arrogance 

At some point during my first seven years as a high school principal, I seriously began to think about my professional future and the next step. I entertained the possibility of returning to the university to work toward a doctorate, but the superintendency seemed to be the natural next step.

Admittedly, I was arrogant in my view. As I looked at some sitting superintendents, I figured, "If they are capable of the post, so am I." I accepted the superintendency of the Paintsville Independent Schools in July 1981. Paintsville was a small district of approximately 1,000 students nestled in the foothills of eastern Kentucky.

Two years later I moved to the superintendency of the Frankfort Independent Schools, a small, two-square mile inner-city district in the middle of the commonwealth's capital city. I would remain there for the next five years. Boy, had I arrived! I was the superintendent of the capital district; its size was of no consequence.

My head grew when in February 1985 I was named by Executive Educator as one of the "100 Executive Educators to Watch." It was all there: position, power, and prestige. But there loomed one small problem: I was unhappy.

I had become a victim of my own ego and of what I perceived others thought about me. The pressure of the superintendent's position had begun to destroy me from within. I became a person that I did not like. In fact, I began to hate myself. This attitude adversely affected my behavior both personally and professionally.

In hindsight, I now can admit to myself that for nearly two years I recognized the need to step down from the superintendency and return to my first love--the high school principalship. However, I lacked the fortitude to take the step and change.

And I continued to confront those nagging questions in the back of my mind: What would people think? How could or why would someone leave a top leadership position with such perceived power and prestige? During the last two years as superintendent, I confided to friends the desire to leave the superintendency, only to have them talk me out of it.

During this entire period I was becoming more miserable. I'm not certain that anyone totally understood the internal conflict I was experiencing. Whatever the reality of my dilemma, the question still lingers in my mind: Was the external perception ever a part of my reason to remain in the superintendency, or was it just my ego?

Misplaced Focus

What brought about this change of attitude about the superintendency? Was it misplaced intentions or a false sense of mission? Was the superintendency not what I had expected? Was the "game" of school politics such a negative experience? Was it being so removed from the kids?

The game! It is a given that anytime two or more people elected or appointed to public office are together, politics takes place. School is not nuts and bolts. School is people, and school is politics. In school politics, we often place students in the role of hostages and not as the fundamental purpose of schooling. Playing the game causes us to lose our focus. I detested this fact during my tenure as a superintendent and continue to do so now.

I discovered that intellectually I thrived on the constant ebb and flow of the superintendency, but my emotional self was not mature enough to handle the politics of the position. Often my thoughts about this would appear seemingly out of nowhere. A chance encounter with a board member might occur while I was contemplating a new idea; the moment would be seized and we would share the thought. But once I stated it, the idea did not sound so grand or feasible as it did originally.

However, the seed for a potential and frequently very real problem was sown, for the first board member would see another member and share the original conversation. The second board member's feelings would be hurt because the idea had not been shared with him or her. Though the idea was not feasible and had been quietly laid to rest, it created an interpersonal relationship problem.

Another thing about the game: less time was being devoted by those responsible for the district's oversight to the true purpose of education--the students. The main purpose was lost somewhere in general operations: budget, balls, buses, and beans. Much if not most of the discussion at the board and central-office level did not focus on students. Little time was given to the central issue of curriculum.

Finally, at seemingly the lowest point of the internal conflict, my focus became clear. No matter the number of internal arguments, only one thing mattered--the kids. Forget the perceptions of others--"How could you give this up" or "You're making a grave mistake."

The decision was made. But there were those who did not or would not accept the fact that someone who would walk away from the superintendency and return to the principalship could be truly fulfilled and at peace with himself.

Surely there must be an ulterior motive, they reasoned. Some questioned the sanity of a career move that carried with it a major financial impact. Could my attitude possibly be the result of a mid-life crisis or even a nervous breakdown? Any answer seemed more acceptable than the truth: It's OK to return to the principalship and the kids.

Impossible Mission

Both the superintendency and the principalship are stressful positions. They are thankless jobs that create a sense of alienation. Both are capable of exacting a great personal toll on an individual.

I hold both offices in great esteem, but they are quite different. The sheer isolation of the office of superintendent creates a different kind of stress.

Having served in both capacities, I believe the principalship today is every bit as demanding as the superintendency. I do not believe it is just the condition in Kentucky (home of the Kentucky Education Reform Act), but a nationwide phenomenon. The principalship has become mission impossible. The bomb (our daily responsibilities) is bigger than the plane that must deliver it. The sheer force of the daily demands of the principal creates an atmosphere where stress attacks just wait to surface.

One huge difference between the two positions does exist: As principal, I am allowed to witness, touch, and be involved with students. The authentic relationship with students makes the long days, 70-plus hour work weeks, the peaks and valleys, and even the tears worth all the stress. The superintendency simply is not privy to this sensation.

Decision's Downside 

Is there a downside to leaving the superintendency? Some will just never believe there is no ulterior motive, and nothing will change their opinion. Their attitude is "once a superintendent, always a superintendent."

Some feel an ex-superintendents is a threat when employed in their system at another level. This may create a sense of insecurity and cause him to continually be looking over his shoulders. Again, nothing will alter this perception, regardless of how unfounded the view.

Another downside is along more personal lines. As I self-analyzed, I wondered if something was wrong with me. Could I not handle the superintendency (seven years in the role seeming to make no difference)? I had my doubts: By returning to the principalship was I a failure? A constant little voice in the recess of my mind would say, "Go back," when I had nothing to prove to anyone but myself.

Every time I get the urge to seek a superintendency now, my stomach turns; the message is clear: I am a fool!

I value the diversity of my experiences. I greatly appreciate the opportunity that was mine to lead two school districts. However, I can look at myself in the mirror and admit that the whole time I served as superintendent there was within me a major professional void. I am a principal; it is my calling. No regrets!