People Don't Need More Donuts. They Need More Meaning.

It’s the end of June, and if you’re a school leader, I hope you’re resting.

You need it. For real.

Seriously. I hope you’re sleeping in a little. I hope you’re spending time with people you love. I hope you’re finding moments where you’re not responsible for everyone and everything all at once because, let’s be honest, education is hard right now. Really hard.

The leaders I know are carrying a tremendous amount. They’re trying to improve outcomes, support students, navigate staffing challenges, respond to community needs, and somehow still create schools where people want to show up every day and do their best work. It’s a lot.

And here’s what I know about most of you: you probably tried everything this year. Everything. (I said that really slowly as I wrote it.)

You celebrated people. You bought the donuts. You planned the appreciation activities. You checked in on staff members who were struggling. You wrote thank-you notes. You showed up at events. You worried about your people. You cared deeply.

And yet I suspect there are some of you sitting on your couch right now wondering why, despite all of that effort, your culture still isn’t where you want it to be.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.

I think we’ve done something similar to the words and ideas around culture and joy. We’ve accidentally made them into something they aren’t.

Culture has somehow become associated with snacks in the staff lounge and spirit days. Joy has become associated with fun.

Don’t get me wrong. I like donuts. I like fun. But neither one is exactly the thing we’re truly looking for.

What we’re looking for is meaning. Purpose. We’re looking for a reason we’re here.

In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot about a phrase that keeps rattling around in my brain lately: professional joy.

I’ve spent enough years in education to know that professional joy doesn’t come from having an easy job. If that were true, nobody in education would ever experience it.

Professional joy is that feeling you get when you’re doing work that matters alongside people you respect and care about. It’s looking around after a hard week, a hard month, or sometimes a hard year and realizing that what you’re doing is making a difference. It’s seeing growth that once felt impossible. It’s watching people rise to a challenge and discovering they’re capable of more than they thought. It’s exhausting and exhilarating at the same time.

That’s joy.

And the more I think about it, the more convinced I become that culture and professional joy are deeply connected.

One of the biggest misconceptions I see is that culture is created in the absence of challenge.

It’s actually the opposite.

Challenge reveals culture.

When things get hard, and they always do, people either pull together or they pull apart. They either believe in one another or they stop believing. They either remember why the work matters or they lose sight of it.

The strongest cultures I’ve ever experienced weren’t built because people had easy jobs. They were built because people were united around meaningful work. They believed in the mission, and they believed in each other. Even though there are also times when things get a little messy. Because I’d be lying if I didn’t say that, too.

At the end of the day, they understood that what they were doing mattered.

That last part feels especially important right now because I meet so many educators who are hungry for meaning.

Not because they don’t care. Quite the opposite.

They care so much that it hurts.

They just need to be reminded that their work matters. That they matter. That what they’re building matters.

As you head into the summer, I don’t want you thinking about what treats you’ll bring back in August. I want you thinking about what people experience when they walk through the doors of your school.

Do they feel seen?

Do they feel trusted?

Do they feel challenged?

Do they feel supported?

Do they understand how their work contributes to something bigger than themselves?

Because when people experience that, something remarkable happens.

They rise.

Not because they’re told to.

Not because they’re incentivized to.

Not because someone put a slogan on a wall.

They rise because they believe.

They believe in something bigger than themselves. And they believe in what’s possible.

And when enough people believe together, that’s when culture becomes something real.

So rest this summer.

You deserve it. You need it.

And while you’re resting, maybe spend a little time thinking about professional joy. Not how to manufacture it. Not how to buy it. Not how to compromise your personal budget trying to create it.

Instead, think about how to create the conditions where it can grow.

Because culture isn’t something we purchase.

It’s something we build.

Together.

One relationship, one conversation, one act of belief at a time.

You’ve got this.