When I first stepped into teacher leadership as a EdTech Teacher On Special Assignment (TOSA), I didn’t realize how many costumes came with the job.
Suddenly, I was expected to speak like a district leader, dress like I belonged in central office meetings, and think strategically about initiatives that felt far removed from the classroom energy I loved.
My heart was still with teachers — but I found myself caught in the middle, unsure which version of “me” belonged.
At times, it felt like I was wearing an invisible mask — one that smiled through confusion, nodded through acronyms, and stayed quiet when my teacher instincts told me to question the plan.
The role didn’t exist before I stepped into it, which meant there was no script, no mentor, and no playbook for how to bridge two worlds.
I wanted to do right by everyone — but in trying to be everything for everyone, I almost disappeared behind the disguise.
One afternoon, I reached out to a few nearby teacher-leaders and shared some of my struggles. Turns out I wasn’t alone, and just like that, I found my coven.
My few friends became a full-blown Professional Learning Network (PLN) — a mix of teacher-leaders scattered across schools and districts who were brave enough to admit they were struggling, too.
Together, we laughed about the masks we wore, traded spells for surviving policy meetings, and reminded each other that real leadership doesn’t come from pretending. It comes from presence.
I stopped trying to act like a district leader and started leading the way I always had — by lifting others.
I built a network of onsite technology coaches who could support teachers where they were, share honest feedback, and bring me closer to the pulse of each school community.
The more authentic I became, the more connection and trust grew.
It turned out that being “too teacher” was my greatest strength all along.
Halloween has a funny way of showing us what we hide behind — and what we might discover if we take the mask off.
For educators, especially those in leadership, the costumes can feel constant: polished presentations, endless meetings, confident answers when we’re still figuring things out ourselves.
But the real magic happens when we stop performing and start belonging — when we lead with heart, curiosity, and the same authenticity we ask of our students.
So this week, as the costumes come out and the cobwebs hang high, I hope you take a moment to celebrate the beautifully imperfect, fully human leader you already are.
The one who bridges classrooms and conference rooms. The one who listens first, lifts others, and leads with compassion.
Because here’s the secret no spell can outdo: the best version of you is the one who stopped pretending to be anyone else.