When Everything Is a Priority, Nothing Is (Especially in Schools)

Something I shared on my Instagram story last week got more engagement than posts about my new kittens, my latest book, or my toddler’s antics.

It was this:

That statistic clearly resonates across industries, but I cannot stop thinking about how deeply it applies to schools.

At most schools, teachers are expected to do far more than teach their three or four daily classes. Beyond instruction, they grade assignments, design assessments, analyze student data, and provide individualized feedback. They plan daily lessons and long-term units, differentiate instruction, modify materials for English learners, students with disabilities, and advanced learners, and implement IEP and 504 accommodations. They supervise recess, lunch, hallways, and dismissal; attend coaching sessions, grade-level meetings, IEP meetings, and professional development; communicate with families; document behavior incidents and interventions; tutor students before or after school; maintain classroom environments; prepare materials and technology; complete compliance paperwork; and often sponsor clubs, mentor colleagues, or support school events.

It is not just a heavy workload. It is an impossible one.

When everything is urgent, nothing is sustainable. Teachers deserve leadership that makes priorities clear. What matters most? What can wait? What is not expected right now?

This pressure does not stop at the classroom. I experienced it firsthand in district leadership. When I asked for support prioritizing my workload while covering multiple vacancies without additional compensation and managing a constant flood of urgent new initiatives, my manager told me I needed better time management. When I pushed back and asked what to prioritize when everything could not possibly be a priority, another senior leader responded, “You are either here for the kids, or you are not.”

That framing is manipulative. It weaponizes moral commitment to justify burnout.

It does not have to be this way.

More than twenty years into a career “for the kids,” I refuse to sacrifice my health, family, or humanity to prove my dedication. Wanting boundaries does not make someone less committed. It makes them human.

If school systems claim to serve students and families, they must also care for the people doing the work, not with surface-level perks like dress-down Fridays or catered lunches (though those are nice), but with real clarity about priorities, workload, and expectations. Because if everything cannot be a priority, then nothing is.

One of the most powerful examples of humane, effective leadership I have seen comes from Jeremy Walden, principal of Mission Vista High School, where I conducted a case study for my doctoral research. He tells his staff:“Connecting with kids in the classroom is a priority over content, always.”

Students feel that difference. One told me, “They want an actual relationship with me, not just because of grades. They enjoy me being in their presence.”

And the results speak for themselves. Mission Vista serves a socioeconomically diverse community, yet its academic outcomes rival those of the state’s wealthiest districts. Their school design supports engagement, but it is leadership clarity that makes it work day to day.

It makes me wonder what it feels like to work for a leader who consistently communicates what matters most and protects their team’s time, energy, and humanity. That kind of clarity is high on my list as I consider my next role.

Do you work for a school or academic leader who sets powerful, humane priorities? Tell me about them. I would love to be inspired.

Because everything cannot be a priority, but people should be.