There is a leak in the reservoir of candidates for independent school headship. Too many of our community’s strongest professionals are promoted up through the ranks into headship … then out. We need to find ways to keep more of our talented, insightful, experienced leaders in independent schools.

Headship is a fulfilling and exciting job, but it’s not a very stable one. According to headsearch.org, the average tenure of a head of an independent school in the USA is less than seven years, with about 20% of heads leaving in less than four years. The reality of this high turnover is at odds with the independent school community’s cultural expectations of long-term headship. That mis-match between reality and expectation makes turnover into a crisis. And crisis drives excellent leaders out of the profession.

One approach is to try to slow down the turnover. “Revolving door headships” are dreadful for school communities, and they damage a school’s reputation and enrollment. Conversations about slowing down turnover have been happening for several years, but a solution does not appear to be around the corner. In the meantime, we can look for ways to mitigate one specific effect of that high turnover: the loss of talent in our industry.

The cultural expectation of long-term headship

In communities where a classroom teacher may have been working in the same room for most of their career, there is a cultural expectation that heads of school will guide their communities with a steady hand across many years. Stories abound of long-term heads who shaped school cultures over decades. Nostalgia for extended headship shapes the processes of finding and onboarding: hiring committees look for candidates with far-reaching vision who are ready to commit for the long term, heads are often appointed a year or more in advance, and onboarding is often structured as an 18-month process.

The headship is an all-consuming role, involving frequent late nights and early mornings, sacrificing hobbies and time with family and friends. The head becomes the symbol for the school, speaking on the school’s behalf to journalists, city officials, and alumni. The role is not a job, it is an identity.

When that intense identification merges with the cultural expectation of longevity, the feeling of “this is who I am” starts to seep into the head of school’s bones.

Slowly at first, then all at once

An independent school is a deeply stable environment for most of its employees. HR law requires extensive due process before firing a teacher, and mid-year resignations by unhappy teachers are extraordinarily rare.

After decades of rising through the ranks in this stable environment, a new head finds that their tenure now depends on their relationship with an annually-shifting team of volunteer trustees; a relationship which depends on innumerable factors outside the head’s control. Trustees are serious about their role of overseeing the head, even when they are unclear about the boundaries of board work. They are often influenced by their experience in for-profit businesses, where executive turnover is frequent and mundane. They are also guided by lawyers who may prioritize protecting the institution from liability, rather than maintaining the school’s reputation for dependability.

Many heads recognize the instability of this arrangement. Experienced heads advise newer heads to set aside money to live on for a year in case they need to resign (colloquially called, ahem, “the FU fund”), to have their own personal laptop, email address, and other infrastructure in case they are summarily dismissed from the school, and to maintain a backup plan of “what would I do if not this.” Nevertheless, even heads who follow all this advice rarely see the separation coming.

Separation is usually preceded by tension, but heads are accustomed to tension in the community - it is the water they swim in. Every day a head makes decisions that are inherently controversial. The focus is typically on how to manage disagreement, how to repair and maintain relationships, and how to adjust the message to new feedback. Tension is the job.

Gradually, then suddenly, tension shifts from normal to untenable. Either the board decides to fire the head, or the head experiences that last-straw moment, and resigns. Sometimes it’s a little of both, simultaneously.  Even when the tension has been building for a while, separation typically feels shockingly abrupt.

Survival

Any sudden departure from a job, in any industry, can generate powerful feelings, including relief, shame, joy, anger, optimism, helplessness, insomnia, liberation, and betrayal.

Two things are special about the sudden departure of an independent school head. One is the cultural expectation that heads stay in their roles for a decade or more, which can amplify shame and embarrassment even when a split was unavoidable. The other is the depth of the bond between the job and personal identity. These two factors combine to create an extraordinarily strong sense of shock and isolation for both new and veteran leaders.

The school has become the head’s whole world, and overnight it is gone. Some heads live in school-owned housing, their children attend the school, and their spouses have settled into local careers. Many count their board members and senior administrators amongst their friends. Most heads are in the middle of vital tasks that seem impossible to drop: guiding a campaign, introducing a curriculum, resolving a conflict, building a relationship with a donor, supporting a troubled student. How can they step away from those commitments? Other heads may reach out, a few loyal friends from the school may express their outrage, but fundamentally the experience can be utterly lonely and completely devastating.

Do these heads of school then fall apart, give up?  A few do, certainly.  But most heads of school were appointed because they have demonstrated grit, vision, impressive qualifications, and downright competence. These folks get stuff done, they do things well, they take the lead, and they can be fierce. Did you think I’d crumble? Did you think I’d lay down and die? Oh no, not I!

Moving forward

Some heads of school recognize that instability is a normal part of headship. They take a few weeks to breathe, then jump straight back into the hiring pool, seeking the next headship or an interim role. Others swear never to report to a board again, and begin applying for administrative or classroom roles. Both of those groups bring their expertise and their skills back into our industry, supporting independent school children, families, teachers, and communities.

Too many heads, however, are done with education. The all-consuming bond with a school, followed by the shock of separation, caused so much pain and damage that they are not interested in returning. Others would like to return to schools, but give up after being turned down for positions. When brief headship is seen as a “red flag” by a hiring committee, an unrealistic cultural expectation of longevity is hiding potential excellence.

Many of those demoralized heads move away, but not very far away. They remain in the wider education industry as consultants, or working with the various firms, associations, and service providers that support the work of independent schools.  Others leave the industry altogether, moving into philanthropy, business, authorship, academia, or other professions. Some simply decide to retire early. Those smart, capable, visionary leaders, those professionals who made such a positive difference on their way “up the ladder” that they became heads of school … they’ve been promoted up and jettisoned out.

Retaining talent

Countless schools are in dire need of experienced leadership, but the damaging culture around headship transitions is shrinking the pool of talented candidates. How can we keep those talented and expert leaders in our industry?

First, the separation could become less traumatic and isolating. There needs to be a place to go: somewhere with peers who have been through similar experiences, and with practical advice about lawyers, search firms, and opportunities. Whatever paths heads choose to take, and regardless of whether they “jumped or were pushed,”  they typically describe a very lonely, uncertain, and emotional period of adjustment. Where to turn? Who to talk with? Recently such a support group has been created, at sites.google.com/view/transitionsclub, but it is only a beginning.

Second, the culture around independent school head longevity needs to shift. It would be ideal if tenures were to get longer, and if departures were to become less abrupt. Failing that, however, a realistic acceptance of the rate of turnover of heads of school needs to grow in our community. Hiring committees and heads need to understand the complex range of reasons for separation, often over matters outside the head’s control, and they need to recognize the normality of short-term headships.

Shifting community expectations around headship takes time. Every school leader, every consultant working with boards, needs to work together to remove stigma attached to abrupt transitions. How can we keep smart, insightful, experienced leaders in independent schools, in this environment of unstable headship? By talking about it. Let’s do this together.

Author note:

Deborah Dowling is a consultant and coach, and manages the support group for departing heads listed in the article above. During and since her years leading the California Association of Independent Schools, Deborah has worked with many heads of independent schools as they approached and navigated difficult separations.