The Authentic Advantage

  This past winter, I found myself in the thick of a quiet job search. Not because I was actively seeking to leave my role as superintendent, but because I was curious. I wanted to dip my toes into the waters of possibility and see what was out there. Admittedly, I was frustrated. Leading is hard. And when the pressure mounts and the days get heavy, it’s easy to wonder: Is there something better out there? For anyone who has ever entertained the thought of a new opportunity, whether quietly scrolling job listings or submitting an application in earnest, you’ll know the pull. The question isn’t just, “Can I do something else?” It’s often, “Would something else be easier? Would it make me happier?” During this process, I found some intriguing opportunities. Positions with more money. Jobs with less visibility. Roles with potentially fewer headaches. But as I moved through interview processes and deeper into reflection, one truth became clear: those jobs weren’t better. They were simp...

In a world that often elevates flashy ambition over quiet impact, it’s was refreshing to sit across from someone like Alex Osterhoudt—a recent SUNY Brockport graduate with a degree in Physical Education and an uncommon passion for purposeful teaching who also happens to be my son! Alexander, or “Coach O” as his students affectionately called him during his student teaching at Rush-Henrietta School District, isn’t in it for accolades. He’s here for the kids, and he means that in the most literal, soul-deep sense. And this mom couldn't be more proud. “I want them to want to come back,” he says, eyes lighting up as he recalls returning to his elementary placement after several weeks away. The warm welcome from students—the cheers, the hugs, the handwritten cards—told him everything he needed to know: he mattered. That kind of connection doesn’t happen by accident. It’s built on intention. “I like that I can show kids they can be active and have fun. A lot of them think PE is boring b...

  They say the third time’s a charm. I suppose I’m about to find out. This fall, I’m stepping back into a journey I’ve started twice before.  I am working toward my doctorate in Organizational Leadership. For years, earning my Ed.D. has symbolized the pinnacle of my career. My mentor once said, “Your doctorate is the culmination of everything you’ve worked for, Michelle.” And for a long time, I believed that wholeheartedly. It wasn’t just a goal; it was the destination. But the truth is, it goes deeper than that. I was brought up to believe that the way to get ahead in life was through education. That it was the key to stability, respect, and success. And as a Black woman, that message echoed even louder. The pressure to overachieve and just to be seen as enough has always been there. Do more. Be more. Prove your worth ten times over. Work twice as hard for half the credit. And so I did. Education became my armor. My resume became my shield. I built a life on degrees, titles, ...