Even though I transitioned from the music classroom to school administration a decade ago, my identity as a musician has never left me. In fact, it has greatly informed my leadership. The skills we develop in the arts—attunement, vulnerability, collaboration—are the very ones that make us stronger school leaders. I’ve come to realize that my experiences as a singer, both solo and in ensemble, can offer a new lens for leadership in schools.
From Vulnerability to Growth
Working with a voice teacher requires a unique kind of vulnerability and trust—after all, our voice is part of who we are. Years ago, I was learning a piece that told the story of two characters across their lives. A few measures into the final verse, I began to cry—stunned by how deeply the emotional connection had taken hold. Jenny, my teacher, stayed completely neutral at first, giving me space to process. She let me know there was no need to feel embarrassed. Instead, she helped me explore how to channel those emotions into the performance so that the audience could feel the intensity without it disrupting my technique.
I wouldn’t have had the confidence to perform that piece if not for the trusting relationship I had with my voice teacher. Similarly, in schools, trusting relationships make it possible for teachers to be vulnerable, and that vulnerability creates openings for meaningful support. Years ago, an integrated co-teacher in my building was navigating a partnership with a colleague who was new to the school. One evening, as I was leaving the building, I noticed she was finishing a parent meeting…without her co-teacher. When I asked why she was alone, she broke down.
She shared that the pressure of being a supportive player, combined with the needs of her students, had led to long days and unsustainable expectations. I had been completely unaware. During the school day, the partnership appeared smooth and functional. That moment shifted my perspective. It gave me a new lens for observing their classroom and ultimately led to a conversation where both teachers came together to clarify and more equitably share responsibilities.
Later, when I asked why she hadn’t come to me sooner, she explained that she didn’t want to disrupt the team dynamic. That experience has stayed with me. It reminds me to look closely and strive to cultivate relationships where teachers feel safe enough to be vulnerable before becoming overwhelmed.
Make Feedback Specific, Actionable, and Clear
Since the age of 14, I’ve studied with talented and generous voice teachers. From breathwork to diction to repertoire, they each shaped my vocal development; but in the early years, I often struggled with the abstract nature of their feedback.
One teacher, while helping me sustain a high note, instructed: “Imagine I’m pouring a jug of milk down your throat.” (Huh?) Another, during a jazz lesson, said: “Sing like purple smoke is coming out of your mouth.” (What?) These images were vivid—but left me unsure about how to improve. What did I actually need to do with my body to elicit the sound they were asking for?
This type of well-meaning but abstract feedback can also seep into schools. I’ve been guilty of it myself. Early in my work as a coach, after observing a writing lesson, I suggested that a teacher incorporate more of a “think aloud” before sending students off to work independently. She nodded in agreement. However, when I invited her to try it out, she froze.
I realized we were not working from a shared understanding. I paused and broke the strategy down into concrete steps: noticing a craft element, naming the strategy, trying it in real time, and reflecting aloud on the writing. With those clear points, she was able to replicate the process using her own voice and style. That moment illustrated an important lesson for me: the most impactful coaching is specific, actionable, and clear.
Trusting relationships make it possible for teachers to be vulnerable, and that vulnerability creates openings for meaningful support.
Shared Responsibility Creates Learning Opportunities
One thing I loved about my lessons with my voice teacher was our shared responsibility for my growth—especially when choosing repertoire. Sometimes I brought songs I loved or pieces I wanted to add to my portfolio. If I brought in a piece outside of my teacher’s expertise, she explored alongside me, offered what feedback she could, and sought insight elsewhere when needed. That mutual investment strengthened our partnership.
Instructional leadership works the same way. While teachers implement strategies in their classrooms, strong leaders honor their expertise, create space for shared thinking, and guide with care. When teachers explain what they’ve tried and what has worked, leaders can offer more relevant and respectful support.
I once collaborated closely with a teacher as we worked to adapt curriculum to meet the needs of our students in Queens, New York. We made the decision to take an online course together around dismantling racism in math instruction, working independently on modules outside of school and coming together to discuss in the building. Together, we reworked one of the units of the math program for her 2nd grade class, adapting practices that we felt would make learning more meaningful for the students. It was an incredibly positive experience for both students and adults, and learning together strengthened our relationship and deepened the trust we felt. I wasn’t the coach with all the answers. I was a collaborator. And just as seasoned singers still take lessons, experienced teachers benefit from thoughtful partnership.
Take Notice of Hidden Connections
Every part of the body plays a role in singing. Jenny once noted that the way a toe presses into the floor could affect posture and breath support. A twisted foot can throw off alignment—and, in turn, your sound.
Schools operate the same way. Small, easily overlooked details, such as whose work is missing from the bulletin board or which teacher aide stays in the building even after she clocks out, can throw off a school’s alignment. On the other hand, other details, when spotted and allowed to thrive, can create a ripple effect of good. In some classrooms, I’ve seen teachers with what I call “kid magic.” Something’s clearly working—a subtle habit, a tonal choice, great timing—but it’s often hard to pin down. Understanding those forces takes curiosity and close observation.
Good leaders take note of these details and make small shifts to create the kind of culture we want. For example, we can experiment with time of day, tone of voice, or body language to shape how our feedback is received. More broadly, small details—the master schedule, who’s visible during arrival and lunch, the background theme and formatting of a staff meeting slideshow—can affect a school’s entire ecosystem and contribute to a culture where people feel valued. Being attuned to these hidden variables helps us lead with empathy and create space where growth feels possible.
A school’s harmony depends on leaders who can listen across the building—identifying patterns, sensing shifts, and adjusting with care.
Listening Across
The last lesson I’ll share comes from choral singing. Throughout my career, I’ve heard conductors use the phrase listen across to help tune an ensemble. To listen across means listening not just to your own voice, but to those beside you and beyond. Singers must balance their sound—loud enough to hear themselves, quiet enough to blend. They must recognize when their section carries the melody and when their role is to support through harmonization.
I think about this concept during school meetings. I try to attune myself to the whole group, not just my own voice, to notice who’s speaking and who’s silent. A school’s harmony depends on leaders who can listen across the building—identifying patterns, sensing shifts, and adjusting with care. When we keep an ear to the ground, we can help the whole ensemble flourish.
Coda: Leading in Harmony
Good musicians know the power of deep listening. Whether performing solo or in ensemble, we adjust constantly—responding to cues, supporting those around us, and tuning in to subtle shifts in sound and energy.
My background as a musician has deeply influenced how I lead. It’s helped me cultivate a culture that is attuned, relational, and collaborative. It has also reminded me that the most meaningful moments—whether in music or in schools—often come from authenticity, not flawlessness.
