The Work We Do When No One Is Watching

Turnaround work doesn’t pause just because the calendar says break.

That’s one of the truths no one really prepares you for when you step into leadership, especially in a school working its way out of crisis and toward stability. The messy middle is exactly that space after the urgent fires are out but before systems are strong enough to hold without constant tending. It’s quieter than crisis. Less visible than celebration. And it demands some of the hardest work there is.

Friday, on our last day of school, I sent a message to my staff reminding them to shut off “school.” I meant it. I want them resting, laughing, traveling, sleeping in, and being fully present with the people who refill their cups over break. They’ve earned that space, and protecting it is part of my job.

Then, I opened my laptop.

Not because I wanted to, but because this is what sustaining momentum actually looks like.

Breaks and weekends in turnaround work are often when the most consequential decisions get made. This is the time to step back far enough to see patterns, to rebalance what drifted, and to intervene before small misalignments become semester-long obstacles. For me, that meant working through student schedule shifts so classrooms can reset with intention. It meant rebalancing electives so sections are equitable and functional, not just “good enough.” It meant answering emails that don’t respect business hours because the expectation, fair or not, is that leadership is available all the time.

It is exhausting.

And it is also necessary.

The messy middle doesn’t reward autopilot. Progress here is uneven by nature. Some systems are improving while others lag. Some students are thriving while others need a different placement, a different peer group, a different environment to be successful. If leaders disengage during these in-between moments, the work doesn’t hold. Teachers feel it. Students feel it. The fragile sense of forward motion stalls.

This is the part people rarely see. There are no walkthrough photos, no celebratory posts, no applause for spreadsheets adjusted on a holiday morning or emails answered quietly before the house wakes up. But these are the choices that protect instructional time, reduce friction for teachers, and give students a better chance to start the semester strong.

That doesn’t mean it’s healthy to normalize burnout. It does mean being honest about the cost of real school improvement. Turnaround leadership asks for sacrifice in seasons, especially when consistency hasn’t fully arrived yet. The goal is not to live here forever. The goal is to build systems strong enough that one day, breaks are truly breaks.

We’re not there yet.

So today, I’ll do the work that keeps the wheels from wobbling. I’ll make the decisions that allow my staff to walk back in January feeling supported instead of blindsided. And I’ll keep reminding myself that this invisible labor matters, even when it’s lonely and tiring.

This is the messy middle.

After crisis.

Before consistency.

Where progress is real, fragile, and worth protecting—even on Christmas Eve.

And tomorrow, I’ll close the laptop again and sit with my family, knowing that both things can be true: this work is relentless, and it is deeply, stubbornly worth it.