Why I Left the Superintendency for a Principalship - school administration

School Administrator, March, 1996 by Al Osborne

As I look back over my 26-year career as a public school educator, I sometimes wonder if I have been unduly influenced by the perceptions of family members and fellow educators as I've climbed the professional ladder of school administration.

I am not sure of the answer. I know I became a principal, in part, because of Marion Blue and George Hufford, my junior high and high school principals in Wauseon, Ohio, in the early 1960s. I also held the odd notion that a high school could and should be more than it seemed to be in the decade of the '70s, and I felt I could make a difference.

Over the years my educational philosophy developed to the point where I could articulate it confidently. My vision began to expand and a clear personal and professional mission emerged. Over the years my mission matured, but for all intents and purposes it remains the same today as in the beginning of my professional walk.

Children/students are miracles waiting to happen. All children not only can, but will learn. And I, we (the educators), set the stage, create a positive learning environment, facilitate, manipulate, con, sell, and just make certain the miracle is allowed to happen.

With strong role models, personal desire, and missionary zeal, I moved toward the principalship.

Early Arrogance

At some point during my first seven years as a high school principal, I seriously began to think about my professional future and the next step. I entertained the possibility of returning to the university to work toward a doctorate, but the superintendency seemed to be the natural next step.

Admittedly, I was arrogant in my view. As I looked at some sitting superintendents, I figured, "If they are capable of the post, so am I." I accepted the superintendency of the Paintsville Independent Schools in July 1981. Paintsville was a small district of approximately 1,000 students nestled in the foothills of eastern Kentucky.

Two years later I moved to the superintendency of the Frankfort Independent Schools, a small, two-square mile inner-city district in the middle of the commonwealth's capital city. I would remain there for the next five years. Boy, had I arrived! I was the superintendent of the capital district; its size was of no consequence.

My head grew when in February 1985 I was named by Executive Educator as one of the "100 Executive Educators to Watch." It was all there: position, power, and prestige. But there loomed one small problem: I was unhappy.

I had become a victim of my own ego and of what I perceived others thought about me. The pressure of the superintendent's position had begun to destroy me from within. I became a person that I did not like. In fact, I began to hate myself. This attitude adversely affected my behavior both personally and professionally.

In hindsight, I now can admit to myself that for nearly two years I recognized the need to step down from the superintendency and return to my first love--the high school principalship. However, I lacked the fortitude to take the step and change.

And I continued to confront those nagging questions in the back of my mind: What would people think? How could or why would someone leave a top leadership position with such perceived power and prestige? During the last two years as superintendent, I confided to friends the desire to leave the superintendency, only to have them talk me out of it.

During this entire period I was becoming more miserable. I'm not certain that anyone totally understood the internal conflict I was experiencing. Whatever the reality of my dilemma, the question still lingers in my mind: Was the external perception ever a part of my reason to remain in the superintendency, or was it just my ego?

Misplaced Focus

What brought about this change of attitude about the superintendency? Was it misplaced intentions or a false sense of mission? Was the superintendency not what I had expected? Was the "game" of school politics such a negative experience? Was it being so removed from the kids?

The game! It is a given that anytime two or more people elected or appointed to public office are together, politics takes place. School is not nuts and bolts. School is people, and school is politics. In school politics, we often place students in the role of hostages and not as the fundamental purpose of schooling. Playing the game causes us to lose our focus. I detested this fact during my tenure as a superintendent and continue to do so now.

I discovered that intellectually I thrived on the constant ebb and flow of the superintendency, but my emotional self was not mature enough to handle the politics of the position. Often my thoughts about this would appear seemingly out of nowhere. A chance encounter with a board member might occur while I was contemplating a new idea; the moment would be seized and we would share the thought. But once I stated it, the idea did not sound so grand or feasible as it did originally.

However, the seed for a potential and frequently very real problem was sown, for the first board member would see another member and share the original conversation. The second board member's feelings would be hurt because the idea had not been shared with him or her. Though the idea was not feasible and had been quietly laid to rest, it created an interpersonal relationship problem.