It’s been a little more than a year since I began serving as an elementary school principal, and as I reflect on my time spent in this position, one thing is clear -- this is a hard job.
Don’t get me wrong. While difficult, it is also incredibly rewarding. My district’s superintendent, as we were walking through classrooms a few weeks ago, said something that is so true -- “Being an elementary school principal is as close to being a rock star as one gets.” As an assistant principal at a middle school, students ran away from me, the disciplinarian. As an elementary principal, students run to me.
Being an elementary school principal definitely has it’s perks. Like hugs. If riches were measured in hugs, I’d be very wealthy.
Or dozens and dozens of finger waves each day. Those of you at the elementary school level know what I’m talking about.
Or walking across campus and hearing your name spoken in unison by a group of students headed to the library or lunch. “Mr. Coley! Mr. Coley! Hi, Mr. Coley!”
Or greeting students and parents at the front gate each morning with a high five, seeing their smiling faces, eager to learn.
Or sitting in a kindergarten classroom. If you’re ever having a bad day, go sit in a kindergarten classroom for a little while. It’ll make you smile. Trust me.
Or riding tricycles with kindergarteners, as seen in the video below.
But being a principal is hard too. People often ask me, “What’s the hardest part?”
Is it the long hours? No.
Is it the stress? Definitely a stress-filled position, but no.
Is it having to handle student discipline? No. Not fun, but not the hardest part.
Is it speaking with upset parents? No. Again, definitely not fun, but not the hardest part.
For me, the hardest part of being a principal is...wait for it...
Feeling powerless. Wanting to help but not being able to do so.
I moved into administration because I had a desire to support teachers, which in turn helps students and their parents. By providing support and encouragement at this level, I have the potential to affect change on a larger scale than I could in a single classroom.
But what happens when I'm not able to help? What happens when the desire is there, but what is required is beyond my reach?
Like when teachers come to me requesting additional staffing, but such hiring decisions are out of my hands.
Or when some of our classroom computers are eight years old, and a limited budget makes the replacement process a painfully slow one.
Or when a teacher comes to me needing a new lamp for her LCD projector, but the lamps I've ordered over a month ago haven't yet arrived and there are none available to borrow.
Or when parents come to me with legitimate safety concerns regarding our parking lot, yet those concerns stem from other parents not following the rules or being courteous. How do I mandate manners?
Or when a teacher asks me to work with that hard-to-reach student, but none of the tricks in my bag are working.
This is the hardest part of my job. Wanting to help but lacking the expertise or resources to do so. It’s frustrating.
I sometimes wonder if I’m making a difference, if I’m being a good leader. Last week a student handed me this note at dismissal time.
I must be doing something right.
Brent has worked in the field of education as a teacher and administrator for over 20 years. He is currently Principal of Alta Murrieta Elementary School in Murrieta, California. Read more about Brent here.
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