Leadership Uncoupling

Seasonal

Most people assume leadership ends in burnout or conflict—but what if it didn’t have to?

Transitions can be conscious, healthy, and rooted in growth. The reality, though, is that the average tenure for school leaders is short—just 3 to 5 years—and even shorter for those leading in under-resourced communities. It’s no wonder. The role is massive.

After five years in school leadership, I decided to step away. Yes, burnout played a role. Yes, I had differences in opinion with district leadership. But those were only part of the story. The deeper truth is this: I felt that the work I was called to do at my school was complete.

I stepped into the principalship mid-year, just as we were reopening during the pandemic. We had a new building, a newly assembled staff, and I shifted from a K–6 to 5–8 school. We were navigating contact tracing, mask mandates, and social distancing with little to no existing infrastructure. And while all of that was monumental, the bigger challenge was meeting the social, emotional, and academic needs of our students and staff in that environment. And still—we did it.

It wasn’t easy, but we built, we healed, and we moved forward together. I’m incredibly proud of what we accomplished. There’s a common assumption that school leaders leave because they’re overwhelmed, ineffective, or pushed out. That if you were strong enough, you’d just “stick it out.” But that’s not my story. Yes, I’m tired. But I also know that my work here is complete. And when something is complete, you don’t force it—you honor it, and you pass the torch. Because nothing lasts forever—and that’s not failure. That’s leadership, too.

There were signs it was time for me to evolve. The two biggest? A sense of stagnancy—and a deep yearning for something new to feed my growth.

The feeling of stagnation didn’t come from lack of effort. It came from the hamster wheel of unresolved challenges: staff pay concerns, the uncertainty of never being fully hired, the complex needs of students showing up in their choices, and the constant balancing act of keeping staff morale high amidst it all. At times, it felt like a seesaw—and my team and I fought daily to keep it balanced.

Still, I was all in.

I collaborated to create staff bonus opportunities. I supported our Dean of Students in redesigning our student experience policies. I taught classes. I helped expand our after-school programming to give students space to grow beyond the classroom. It was hard, but I stood ten toes down—and I truly loved it.

We saw family engagement scores rise. Student investment surged. Academic performance took real strides. My heart was full—and my mind was racing with excitement for what might come next… for me.

Now, I won’t pretend all of that didn’t take a toll. The cost was real. And I wouldn’t have made it without my husband, who was not only a teacher on staff but the wind in my sails through it all.

So, with all of that in mind—with pride, fatigue, love, and clarity—I knew it was time. And I wanted my transition to be filled with transparency, gratitude, and deep care for the school community I’ve served for the past decade.

Let me be clear: I am not walking away from students, staff, or purpose.

If anything, I’m honoring the work by leaving with intention. One of the things I’m most proud of is supporting two of my Deans—both incredible Black women—as they stepped confidently into principal roles. I’ve also had the privilege of seeing two of our teachers rise into Dean positions. That’s a leadership pipeline. That’s legacy.

Now, with all the experience I’ve gained and the lessons I’ve lived, I’m shifting my impact. I’m moving from leading in a single building to partnering with schools across the country on their community-based design journeys through my work with Transcend.

School leaders can transition in ways that move the work forward without disrupting the heart of the community. As burnout knocked at my door, I stood tall and said, “It’s time.” I chose to interrupt the cycle—and in doing so, made space for the next great leader to rise.

When I moved to New Haven ten years ago, I knew only the person who recruited us and his family. A decade later, this city is home. The relationships I’ve built here are woven into my story, and I carry them with deep gratitude.

Because leadership isn’t a title—it’s a journey.
And I’m proud to say, I’m moving on whole.
To me, that is the true measure of success.

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Tanesha B. Forman

I'm a current middle school administrator who loves breaking down complex topics and providing opportunities for educators learn, reflect, practice, and implement methods that foster equity and anti-racism. I believe we win together!

Behind the Blog

Hi, I'm Tanesha.

I’m a current middle school administrator who loves breaking down complex topics and providing opportunities for educators learn, reflect, practice, and implement methods that foster equity and anti-racism. I believe we win together!