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, and achievements. And for a long time, that formula worked.
Until it didn’t.
The first time I began my doctoral studies, the world shut down. The pandemic hit, and as a school principal navigating the chaos of virtual learning, crisis planning, and emotional fatigue, I had nothing left to give to myself. My studies were put on the shelf.
The second time, I had become a superintendent. A new role, a new district, a steep learning curve—and again, the doctoral journey had to wait.
And now, here I am again. Different season. Different mindset.
But this time, it’s not just about returning to something I didn’t finish. It’s about questioning whether I still want what I once dreamed of.
Is this still my pinnacle?
As I grow in my leadership and evolve in my priorities, I find myself valuing time, presence, and joy over credentials. I’ve begun to lean into writing, journalism, and photography. These things make me feel creatively alive. I’ve begun to imagine a future where my days are filled with storytelling and lens work, not research papers and citations.
So why go back now?
The truth is, I don’t know yet if I’ll finish. I don’t even know if I want to. And strangely, that feels like growth.
It’s not that I’m giving up. It’s that I’m giving myself permission to reassess without shame or pressure. Permission to ask: Do I want this? Or did I just get so used to chasing it, I forgot to check if it still fits?
I still believe education is a key to success. It has opened every door I’ve walked through. But perhaps now, success looks different than it did ten years ago. Maybe the pinnacle isn’t a degree. Maybe it’s peace. Or alignment. Or joy.
So yes, I’m starting my doctorate. But this time, I’m doing it with eyes wide open—not just on the goal, but on how it makes me feel.
I’ll know soon enough if it still feeds my soul.
And if it doesn’t? I’ll find the path that does.
Because authentic leadership isn’t about climbing every mountain. It’s about choosing the ones that matter most—now.
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