The Quiet Impact of Leadership in Education

This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about what leadership really looks like within our association. People often picture leadership as standing at a microphone, rallying the crowd, or making sweeping decisions that change the course of events. And yes, sometimes leadership does look like that. But more often, leadership is much quieter. It is the steady voice that says, “Here’s a reminder before you step into something that could hurt you.” It is the work that happens behind the scenes, often unnoticed, that keeps people protected and equipped to do their best work.

Last week, in my role as co-president of my local association, I shared information with members about what not to say on social media as a teacher. At first glance, this kind of message might feel like yet another list of “don’ts” in a profession already overflowing with rules and expectations. Teachers are constantly navigating policy manuals, district guidelines, state requirements, and community pressures. So why add one more layer of restriction?

The truth is, sharing what not to say online is not about restricting teachers’ voices. It is about protecting them. It is about reminding colleagues that while we all deserve the right to express ourselves, the medium of social media doesn’t operate under the same rules as a casual conversation in the teacher’s lounge. Once something is posted online, it takes on a life of its own.

I was reminded by a colleague that, “Once something is posted on social media, it can’t be retracted. We never know where that post will go, even if we think our ‘friends’ thoughts align with ours.”

That reality is sobering. We’ve all had the experience of saying something in the moment, maybe out of frustration or exhaustion, that we later wished we could pull back. In face-to-face settings, there’s room for apologies, for clarifications, for tone and context. On social media, though, the words are frozen in time, divorced from nuance, and available for anyone to screenshot or share. Even if we think our network is safe, we can never truly know who will see those words or how they will be interpreted.

When I shared those reminders with our members, I wasn’t saying, “Be silent.” In fact, I believe the opposite. Teachers’ voices matter more than ever. We need educators speaking truth about what is happening in our classrooms, advocating for our students, and pushing for the resources we need. Our profession depends on it. But to do that well, we also have to be savvy about the platforms we use.

What I hoped to provide was not a list of restrictions, but a kind of guardrail. Guardrails don’t stop a journey; they keep travelers safe so they can reach their destination. Leadership in my local association, to me, is about offering those guardrails. It is about saying, “Your voice matters. Let’s make sure nothing prevents it from being heard in the ways that count the most.”

Sometimes leadership is dramatic. It is negotiating a contract, speaking at the statehouse, or pushing back against unfair policy. But other times leadership is a simple, steady act: a newsletter with a reminder, an email that says, “Think twice before posting,” or a conversation that gently redirects. These actions may not make headlines, but they make a difference. They create a culture where educators know they are not alone, where they feel the association has their back, and where they can trust that someone is looking out for them.

As I reflect this Friday, I am reminded that leadership is often about the long game. It is about anticipating the pitfalls before someone else stumbles. It is about lifting people up, not after they’ve fallen, but before they ever trip. Sharing guidance about social media is one small way to do that.

And maybe that’s the heart of association leadership, not control, not restriction, but care. It is the kind of leadership that clears the path so others can walk forward with confidence. It is reminding teachers that their power doesn’t come from the latest viral post but from their daily work, their relationships with students, and their collective advocacy for a better future in education.

So this week, I carry forward the reminder for myself as much as for anyone else: our words matter, and once they are out there, they cannot be taken back. May we use them wisely, may we use them powerfully, and may we never forget the responsibility that comes with having a voice in this profession.