Earlier today, I was talking with one of the leaders I support. She paused for a moment, took a breath, and said quietly but honestly,
“Darrin, I’m tired. My teachers are tired. Behaviors are up, people’s patience is down… we are tired.”
Her words weren’t dramatic. They weren’t complaining. They were simply true.
And the truth landed hard—not because it was surprising, but because so many leaders are feeling this exact same weight right now.
I hear these words in different forms from leaders across the country. The fatigue is real. The emotional load is real. The work is real.
And today, I want to say something very clearly:
I see you. I hear you. I value you. And I trust you.
We sometimes pretend that leadership is supposed to be an endless reservoir of energy, positivity, and steadiness. But the reality is different. This work demands so much of your heart and your mind:
Student behaviors have increased in intensity and frequency.
Tension runs higher among staff.
Your teachers are worn thin.
And through all of it, you are the one people look to for direction, steadiness, support, and Clarity.
When leaders are doing their work well—really well—it takes something out of them.
Your tired isn’t a sign that you’re failing. It’s a sign that you care deeply.
Leadership can be lonely. You carry burdens others may never fully understand. You absorb more than you show. And you often put your own needs last because you’re focused on taking care of everyone else.
So let me speak directly to you:
I see how hard you’re working.
I hear the exhaustion behind your voice even when you smile through it.
I value your heart, your effort, and your commitment.
And I trust you to lead well, even on the days you feel stretched thin.
Just because others don’t always notice the cost doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Leaders get conditioned to believe they can’t show fatigue or doubt. But here’s the truth:
It is okay to acknowledge the weight.
It is okay to say, “This is hard.”
It is okay to admit, “I’m tired.”
This isn’t weakness. It’s humanity.
When you acknowledge your own emotional reality, two powerful things happen:
You give yourself permission to breathe.
You create space for others to be honest, too.
And that honesty?
That’s the foundation of a healthy, trusting culture.
The fact that you feel tired right now means you are showing up. It means you’re Investing emotionally. It means you’re working from a place of purpose.
Leadership done right is felt.
But feeling it does not mean you’re doing it wrong.
It means you’re leading with heart.
There is no shame in that.
As you notice the fatigue rising within you, consider it not a warning sign—but an invitation:
An invitation to pause.
An invitation to reflect.
An invitation to set healthy boundaries.
An invitation to model authenticity for your team.
An invitation to remind yourself that you are human first, leader second.
Even small steps toward caring for yourself can create big shifts in clarity and well-being.
And sometimes, simply naming the reality lightens the load.
Let me close with this:
You are leading through one of the most challenging seasons Education has ever seen.
You are carrying more than most people recognize.
You are doing more good than you will ever receive credit for.
And even tired, you are remarkable.
Keep going.
Keep caring.
Keep leading with purpose.
But also—please—keep caring for yourself.
I see you. I believe in you. And I am grateful for the work you do.
Tune in this Sunday to the “Leaning into Leadership” podcast, where I’m joined by Dr. Danny Steele to talk about ‘passion drift’, instructional leadership, and a friendship that goes back nearly a decade.
